


The President and Ms Benson

by theoofoof



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on The American President movie, F/M, President AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26256379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoofoof/pseuds/theoofoof
Summary: As the first Latino President of the United States, Rafael Barba is immensely popular. As a man, he's a lonely widower raising his teenage daughter. When he meets lobbyist, Olivia Benson, he is immediately attracted to her, but sparks fly when their relationship develops. Can the most powerful man in the world have the one thing he wants most, or will his job get in the way?
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson, Rita Calhoun/Odafin "Fin" Tutuola
Comments: 110
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the movie, "The American President" written by the fantastic Aaron Sorkin. It's my favourite movie and I after my latest viewing, I was inspired to rewrite it using the characters from SVU. I have taken quite a bit of dialogue from the film, but I'm also adding/expanding on scenes. 
> 
> This is in no way to be taken as a political statement. Anyone who knows Aaron Sorkin's work will know he's rather liberal, but I hope this fic can be enjoyed by all - no matter your political leaning. 
> 
> Thanks go, as always, to [@motherbearof3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3) for being an amazing sounding board/editor. This fic would be nothing without your endless patience and encouragement.

_The White House Residence,  
Washington D.C  
Monday, November 18, 2019 – 7.35am_

Early morning sunlight streamed through the curtains of the residence as President Rafael Barba stood in front of the rack of suspenders in his closet. He picked out a dark brown pair with muted paisley detail and buttoned them to his trousers. He selected his tie next – gold to match the pattern on his suspenders – before moving to his sock drawer.

His grandfather, who had always been a snappy dresser – wore a suit every day of his life and would often tell a young Rafael that, if he wore a good suit, he could take on the world. It was a lesson that had stayed with him throughout his life. He didn’t wear a suit every day, but when he did, he would go all out.

His fashion choices had been a major talking point on the campaign trail and during the first few years of his administration. It had started with his ties – he often wore bold colours or patterns – and the media picked up on that. Then they moved on to talking about his suspenders. About how unusual it was for a man to wear them these days. Several fashion magazines even pointed to him as the reason for upsurge in sales in the months after the election.

But that was nothing compared to when they discovered his socks!

He’d been working late one night in the Oval, his feet up on the desk, when the White House photographer had snapped a picture. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time until the photo had appeared on the website and there, as clear as day, were the bright blue pair of socks he had chosen to wear that morning. It was apparently a revelation to the American public that the President of the United States could wear fun socks.

Before Rafael knew it, there were entire Instagram accounts dedicated to his socks. People would comb over every photo/video clip, trying to get a peek before posting them with the hashtags #POTUS and #PresidentOfTheUnconventionalSocks. He’d even started receiving socks in the mail! Most of the gifts were donated to local homeless shelters, but every so often the staff in the mail room would send a couple of pairs up to him – a sample of the weirdest and wackiest patterns. Someone had even sent him a pair with his own face on.

At first, he hadn’t understood the public’s fascination with his socks and regarded the whole thing as ridiculous. But with a bit of encouragement from his Press Office and the gift of several outrageous pairs from his daughter, he’d begun to embrace it. Now, he made sure to find at least one opportunity a week to show off his socks – usually when he was wearing a particularly jazzy pair.

Today, he chose a simple pattern of yellow with black spots and perched on the edge of his bed to put them on, stifling a yawn as he did so. He had spoken at an event for the Daughters of the American Revolution the previous evening and hadn’t got back to the White House until after ten o’clock, which meant he hadn’t started reading his briefing memos until nearly eleven. He was going to need an awful lot of coffee to get through today.

Standing, he slipped his shoes and jacket on and took one final look in the mirror. He made one slight adjustment to the knot of his tie before opening his bedroom door.

“Good morning, Carmen”

His personal assistant, Carmen, was waiting for him as she did every morning, but today she was holding a lidded travel mug.

“Good morning, Mr President. I figured some extra caffeine might be required this morning,” she explained handing him the cup.

He smiled, thankful once again that he’d been able to persuade her to join the campaign instead of staying on in New York to work for the new Governor. He would be totally lost – and far, far grumpier – without her.

Taking the cup from her, he lifted it to his lips and took a sip of the rich, hot liquid. “Nectar from the Gods. Thank you. So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Another busy one, I’m afraid,” she said, before beginning to reel off his schedule as they walked through the corridors of the White House, his Secret Service agent, Cooper, following behind.

“…and then the 10:15 event has been moved to the Indian Treaty Room.”

“10:15 is American Fisheries?” He vaguely recalled someone mentioning that yesterday.

“Yes sir. They’re giving you a 200-pound halibut.”

“Carmen, make a note, we need to schedule more events where somebody gives me a really big fish.”

Carmen pulled the lid off her pen with her teeth and proceeded to jot down his thoughts. Rafael smiled. “Carmen, I was kidding.”

“Of course, sir.”

Entering the elevator, Carmen continued. “Also, Mr. Carisi asked to have a moment with you this morning.”

Rafael had a feeling this would come this morning. “Is he upset about the speech last night?”

“He seemed…” she searched for the right word, “…concerned.”

Rafael smiled. “Well, it wouldn't be a Monday morning unless Sonny was concerned about something I did Sunday night.”

Carmen bit back a smile as the elevator arrived and the doors opened to reveal the object of their conversation awaiting them on the other side.

“You skipped a whole paragraph,” Carisi began, not even bothering to greet his boss.

Rafael threw a sideways glance to Carmen. “And Monday morning it is.”

Carisi fell into step beside the two as they headed for the double doors that lead to the south lawn.

“‘Americans can no longer afford to pretend they live in a great society’… and then nothing. You dumped the whole handguns paragraph.”

“This is a time for prudence, Sonny.”

“But that was the kick-ass section,” Carisi exclaimed as they continued down the covered walkway that lead from the East Wing to the West.

“Well, I thought, what with being president and all…”

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to imply that–” but his apology was cut off.

“I thought you’d be turning cartwheels this morning, Sonny. We’ve got a 63 percent job approval rating.”

“That’s great news, Sir, but the press is gonna need an explanation.”

“For what?”

A secret service agent opened the door to the West Wing and Rafael strolled through, followed by Carisi and Carmen, the younger man, still trying to explain his point.

“Because you dropped the whole kick-ass section, and now we've got this thing hangin’ out there.”

Rafael raised an eyebrow. “There's a thing hanging out there?”

“‘Americans can no longer afford to pretend that they live in a great society." Then... nothing. No explanation. No context. So, now it's just this thing.”

“And it's hanging out there?”

“Yes, sir. We need to…”

“Sonny, however much coffee you drink in the morning, I want you to reduce it by half.” He was all for infusions of caffeine but being faced with an over-exuberant Sonny Carisi at this time in the morning was too much.

“I drink decaf, sir.”

“Then hit yourself over the head with a baseball bat, would you please?”

Carmen couldn’t stop the smirk that played on her lips at her boss’ words and she moved in front of the President to avoid either he or his Senior Domestic Policy Advisor seeing it. As she did so, she spotted Sarah, one of the staffers, a little further down the corridor.

“Happy birthday, Sarah,” she greeted as they crossed paths.

Rafael paused and turned. “Hey Sarah, happy birthday.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Once Laura had moved out of earshot, Rafael whispered to Carmen, “I should send her some flowers.”

“You already did, sir,” Carmen smiled, as they entered the office, where her desk and that of Mrs Tillinghouse, the President’s Executive Secretary, sat.

Mrs Tillinghouse stood in greeting. “Good morning, Mr. President.”

“How are you today, Mrs. Tillinghouse?”

“Fine, thank you, sir. Mr Garcia left a detailed breakdown of the approval poll for you. He seemed to indicate that it was very good news.

“Well, sixty-three percent of it is, that’s for sure.” Rafael agreed, entering the Oval Office. Placing his coffee on the desk and dropping his briefcase on the chair, he began the task of looking over the numerous briefing memos that had been left for him. He’d thought Harvard had required a lot of reading but that had been nothing compared to the sheer amount of words he had to digest each day as President.

Mrs Tillinghouse had followed them into the office and was standing just inside the doorway. “Gabriella called just a moment ago,” she informed him. “You forgot to sign her permission slip for her class.”

“Oh, the museum trip,” Carmen remembered. “I’ll go get it.”

“What time is she getting home today?”

Carmen consulted her clipboard. “3.20.”

“How’s my afternoon look?”

“Very crowded.”

“Schedule some time at 3.45,” he instructed before returning his attention to the memo in his hand.

Carmen nodded, before retreating to the outer office to locate Gabriella’s permission slip.

“ _Buenos dias, Señor Presidente_.”

Rafael smiled and greeted his press secretary as she strode into the room, back from her vacation.

“Pippa! How was Mexico?”

“I didn't truly appreciate it until I came back and discovered that America isn't a great society.”

Carisi gave Rafael a look that screamed, ‘I told you so’ and turned to Pippa. “He dumped a whole section.”

“And now there's this thing hanging out there, right Sonny?”

“Not a great society, sir?”

“Well, with you out of the country, it wasn't, Pippa. Now that you're back, we're great again.”

“There's a press room full of people asking, "What did he mean by that?"

Carisi felt vindicated. “See?”

Rafael was prevented from replying by the arrival of his Chief of Staff.

“Good morning, everyone.”

“Rita, did you get one of these?” Rafael asked, waving the piece of paper in the direction of his closest advisor and best friend.

“Is that the letter from Dodds and the JHF?”

“It appears to be a letter from every rape crisis advocate in America. These people are out of control.”

“I think they’re just frustrated, Mr President,” Carisi remarked.

“Are they blaming the president for the lack of rape convictions?” Pippa asked.

“Not exactly.” Rita turned to Rafael. “Sir, I’m on the phone with these people twice a week. I honestly don’t know what they want at this point.”

Carisi spoke up again. “What they want is 30 percent increase in federal funding to clear the rape kit backlog.”

The Joyful Heart Foundation had begun as non-profit aiming to transform society’s response to sexual assault, support survivors’ healing, and end that type of violence forever. But it had quickly grown into one of the most powerful political organisations in D.C.. Their latest initiative was a campaign to end the rape kit backlog and they were lobbying for a bill which would ensure a significant increase in the money allocated to the Sexual Assault Kit Initiative to provide communities across the country with the vital resources they need to develop and implement comprehensive, rape kit reform.

“It won’t pass at 30 percent,” Rita told him.

“Well, we haven’t really tried.”

“Sonny,” Rita sighed, “Abraham, Buchanan and Braun hold too many markers. If we try to push this through and lose, there will be a very loud thud when we hit the ground, and that's not what you want in an election year.”

Rafael considered their position for a moment. “Rita, talk to the JHF again. Tell them the President resents the implication that he’s turned his back on sexual assault survivors. Tell them I’ll send resolution 455 to the floor, but I’m going to ask for a 15 percent increase. If they want to pull their support, fine. With a 63 percent job approval rating, I don't need their help to get a bill passed.”

“Yes sir,” Rita assured, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper in her leather-bound folder.

“Now,” continued the president as his senior staff took their seats on the two sofas that sat in the centre of the Oval Office. “I want to say congratulations. Three years ago, we were elected to the White House by one of the narrowest margins in history and today Eddie here tells us 63 percent of registered voters think we're doing a good job.”

“Wait a second,” said Eddie, who had slipped into the office during the discussion on 455, “You wanted me to poll registered voters?”

The president and senior staff laughed.

“But the poll also tells us what we already know,” Rafael continued. “We don't get this crime bill through Congress; these numbers are going to be a memory. So, starting today, we're shifting it into gear.”

“Can I tell my morning press gaggle, that gun control–”

“Crime control,” Rita corrected. “‘Gun control’ means we’re wimps and we’re soft on crime.”

Carisi’s head snapped up. “Hang on, are we not–”

“Sonny, please.”

But he would not be deterred. “Are we not putting back the handgun restrictions?”

“No,” Rita told him. “We’re leaving them out.”

Sonny addressed the President. “Sir, we campaigned on this issue. Now, I understand we took it out when we were in the low forties, but we can push it through now.”

“After the elections, Sonny.”

“Sir, we may never have an opportunity like this again. Let's take this 63 percent out for a spin and see what it can do.”

“We can't take it out for a spin, Sonny. We need it to get re-elected. For reasons passing understanding, people do not relate guns to gun-related crime.”

“Pippa, you can brief the press this afternoon,” Rita said. “As of today, the crime bill is priority one on the President’s domestic agenda.”

“Got it.”

But Carisi wasn’t finished. “Can I just say, to return to the subject for one moment, that it might be easier to fight a war on drugs if we weren't arming drug dealers.”

Rafael sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with Sonny’s point, but it was an election year. If they won, they’d have four more years to go after the handguns and more. Move too aggressively and they’d be out. “We've got to fight the fights we can win, Sonny.”

“Yes sir.”

Rita glanced at Carisi to make sure he was finished. “We want to announce the Crime Bill at the State of the Union, which – not including the holidays – is seventy-two days from today. The last nose count put us eighteen votes short.”

Rafael nodded. “Eighteen votes in seventy-two days. Thank you, everyone.”

As the senior staff began to stand and take their leave, Rafael called to the outer office. “Carmen, what's next?”

* * *

_Joyful Heart Foundation Headquarters,  
Washington D.C.  
Monday, November 18, 2019 – 10.00am_

William Dodds hung up the phone and wearily pressed the intercom. “Could you send Arlene in, please?” he asked his secretary.

Arlene Heller was one of the most passionate lawyers on his staff, but he was sure she could cause an argument in an empty room. Once again, she had created an issue where none previously existed, and he was left to deal with the fall out.

There was a soft knock on his door, and she entered a moment later. “You wanted to see me?”

“I just got off the phone with Rita Calhoun.”

“Did the President read the letter?”

“The President’s pissed as hell, Arlene. That letter was a stupid move.”

“It was aggressive, and we should stand by every word.”

Dodds scoffed. “This isn’t the man who needed our help four years ago, Arlene. He's incredibly popular. He's gonna win re-election in a walk, and he couldn’t give a damn what we stand by! If the President passes the most important piece of sexual assault funding in history, and does it despite our negative endorsement, our political weight in the future will rank somewhere below the Gamma Phi Beta sorority.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’m bringing in some help.” The foundation’s relationship with the White House had been rocky for several weeks now so he’d already hired the person he wanted. She was starting tomorrow, which was lucky, given the timing of Arlene’s letter.

“We don’t need another political strategist to tell us what every other political strategist–”

“Not a political strategist. Someone else. We’re playing hardball with Rafael Barba and we need a heavy bat.” He picked up a business card and tapped it on the desk.

“Who?”

“Olivia Benson.”

“Christ, Bill! That woman doesn’t know the first thing about lobbying congress.”

“No, but she’s passionate and fights for what she believes in. She gets the job done.”

The finality in his tone told Arlene that there was no point in arguing with him and that the conversation was over, so she turned on her heel and stalked out of his office.

Bill fingered the business card in his hand and picked up the phone. He’d wanted to bring Olivia Benson on board five years ago, when the JHF really started to become a key player in Washington, but due to personal circumstances she’d felt unable to take him up on his offer. Now though, she was ready and raring to go.

His fingers made quick work of dialling her number and the phone rang twice before her familiar voice answered.

“Olivia Benson.”

“Olivia, it’s Bill Dodds…”

* * *

_The White House  
Washington D.C  
Monday, November 18, 2019 – 3.25pm_

Rafael and Carisi were hunched over the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office putting the final touches to a speech for the following evening.

Carisi’s pen flew across the page. “What if we lose this?”

“Then move this up here,” Rafael suggested as Pippa breezed in.

“David Sasser from the Times called and wanted to know what the White House felt was a great society.”

“What did you tell him?” asked Carisi.

“Well, I told him I couldn't speak for the President, but for my money: Bermuda.”

“Excuse me, Mr. President,” Carmen called from the door. “Your cousin Maria has come down with the flu and won't be able to join you at the state dinner Thursday night.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Remind me to give her a call later today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you gonna go stag?” Pippa asked, wanting information to feed the press corps.

“That's not a problem, is it?”

“No sir. We've never gone wrong parading you around as the lonely widower.” The words spilled out without thought and it was only when the other occupants of the room froze, that Pippa realised what she’d said.

“I can't believe I said that. Mr. President, that was an incredibly thoughtless remark. I would never dream of insulting you or the memory of your wife.”

Rafael swallowed and schooled his face before meeting Pippa’s eyes. “That's okay, forget it.” He turned to Carmen. “What time is it?”

“It's 3:30, sir.”

“I'm gonna go up and say hi to Gabby.”

“You have the Attorney General at 4:00 and the trade representative at 4:30,” Carmen informed him. “Somewhere in there you promised NPR five minutes.”

He dismissed a further attempt from Pippa to apologise, telling her it wasn’t necessary, and then made his way back to the residence to see his daughter.

Flicking through an old book he’d collected on his way, Rafael approached Gabriella’s room. He could hear the sounds of her clarinet practise and winced when she produced a rather squeaky note. The twelve-year-old looked up as he entered and abruptly stopped playing.

“No, keep playing,” Rafael insisted. “It sounds great. What is it?”

Gabriella frowned at her father. “Scales.”

“Oh, well you were playing them with gusto!”

“What’ve you got behind your back?” she asked, noticing the odd way her father was standing.

“I have a little surprise for you.”

“Is it a new phone?”

He laughed. “No.”

He held out the book, which she took from him warily.

Looking at the title, she sighed. “Hmm. Is it a really old seventh-grade textbook of yours that you're gonna make me read cover to cover and discuss at dinner and drive me crazy with?

“Less of the ‘really old’, thank you.”

Gabriella traced the title with her fingers. "Understanding the Constitution,” she read.

“Yeah, your social studies teacher said your class is going to begin studying the Constitution this week.”

“Wait. You talked to Mr. Linder?”

“Yes. It's called a Parent-Teacher Conference. Mr. Linder and I were the key people in the discussion. So, why don't you like social studies, Gabby?”

“I like it fine, Dad.”

“Oh, come on. All your other teachers say you're happy, you're enthusiastic, you always raise your hand, Mr. Linder says you never participate unless he calls on you, and even then, it's a one-word answer.”

“I don't know, Dad. I guess I'm just not...” she sighed. “I don't know.”

Rafael tapped the front cover. “Gabby, take a look at this book. This is exciting stuff. It's about who we are and what we want. Read what it says on the first page.”

Gabriella opened the book and dutifully read the text printed on the first page. “Property of Herman Ridder Junior High,” she smirked.

“The next page, Gab.”

"We, the People, of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union..."

“Now, you see what I mean? It grabs you right off the bat. It's a page-turner.”

Gabriella eyed the book sceptically. “Yeah, I, uh, can't wait.”

“Good, because it's possible this subject may come up at dinner tonight.”

“Do you see it as part of your job to torture me?” she asked, as he stood to leave.

“No, just one of the perks. See you tonight, _mija_.” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and turned toward the door. Gabriella lifted the clarinet to her lips as he went, playing the first few bars of ‘Hail to the Chief’.

Rafael paused for a moment in the doorway, smiled and shook his head.

* * *

Rafael’s last order of business that day was a late security briefing about the installation of some military hardware in Israel. After being assured that there were no security concerns and that the American personnel were ready and waiting, he gave the green light to deploy the troops to train the Israelis before bidding goodnight to Carmen and Mrs Tillinghouse.

“William Dodds brought in a hired gun at the JHF,” Rita informed him as she walked with him towards the residence.

“It’s about time,” Rafael remarked. If they were to continue to be taken seriously as a political organisation, then they needed to hire the right people.

“Her name’s Olivia Benson. I know her pretty well. Or at least, Odafin does. She’s got a background in sexual assault advocacy and has had a lot of success in campaigning for justice for the more ‘unsympathetic’ victims.”

Rafael winced at Rita’s words. “A victim is a victim, Rita.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Anyway, she’s coming in for a meeting tomorrow, along with Arlene Heller.”

“The author of the letter?” 

Rita nodded.

“Fifteen percent Rita,” Rafael reminded. “Don’t let them leave the room unless their clear about that.”

“If you have any time in your schedule, maybe you could stop in and say hello. It might smooth the way.”

“It’s not a bad idea. Mention it to Carmen tomorrow. And let’s get this out of the way and focus on the crime bill. I don’t want to just win this. I want to win it by a good margin.”

“We will, Mr President.”

Rita moved to leave, but Rafael stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Rita, when we’re out of the office and alone, you can call me Rafael.”

Rita raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“You were ‘best woman’ at my wedding, for crying out loud. Call me Rafael.”

She scoffed lightly at the suggestion. “Whatever you say, Mr President.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Olivia in this one but don't worry - she'll be in Chapter 2!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments. I wasn't sure how many people would have seen the movie as it's quite old now, but it seems most of you have. Bear in mind that there will be some changes to reflect some SVU canon things and I'm going to add in some extra scenes.

_Georgetown,  
Washington D.C  
Tuesday, November 19, 2019 – 7.45am_

There were some mornings when Olivia Benson wished that she could just stay in bed, huddled away from the world with a giant bar of Hershey and her favourite DVD boxset. Mornings like this one. She knew it was going to be one of those days from the moment she was shaken awake by Amanda.

“Liv! Liv, you need to get up. It’s 7.45!”

Olivia opened her eyes to see her best friend waving an alarm clock in her face.

“What? No! It can’t be. I set my alarm for 6.00!” She grabbed her travel alarm clock from the bedside table and noticed it had stopped at 3.19am. “Oh my God!”

Dropping the offending clock to the floor, she jumped out of bed. She yanked her robe off the back of the door and held it tightly around her as she rushed through the apartment to the bathroom, almost falling over the bags and boxes piled in the hallway as she went.

This could not be happening to her. Not today.

“It’ll be okay,” Amanda called through the bathroom door.

“How will it be okay? I have a meeting at the White House at 9. The White House, Amanda! And I need to get Noah to school.” She’d booked him in the before school program so she wouldn’t be rushed. So much for that plan.

“I can take Noah. I don’t have to be in until 10 and I’m going that way anyway to take Jesse to day care. We can make a quick detour.”

The bathroom door opened, and Olivia poked her head out. “You are an angel.”

Amanda waved her off.

“No seriously. We’re already intruding on your life by crashing here and now this.”

“It’s not a problem, honestly. Besides, what are best friends for?” She put a hand on Olivia’s head and pushed her back into the bathroom. “Now, get in the shower. Don’t worry about Noah, I’ve got him.”

The next half an hour was a blur of activity as Olivia took the quickest shower of her life and dressed for her meeting. She strode into the kitchen to find Noah and Jesse eating their breakfast and Amanda pouring two large cups of coffee.

She greeted her son with a kiss to his unruly curls. “Good morning, sweet boy. Did Aunt Amanda explain that I’m not going to be able to take you to school?”

Noah nodded. “Yeah, but that’s okay. You have to meet the President today.”

“Well, I have a meeting at the White House but not with the President himself,” she clarified as Amanda handed her a cup of coffee, “I’m sure he’s far too busy doing important jobs to meet with me.”

“But you are important, Auntie Liv,” Jesse said, with a mouth full of Cheerios.

“So are you, sweetie.”

“Liv, time.”

Olivia looked at the clock and gasped. She took several large sips of her coffee before placing the mug on the table and grabbing her bag. “I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you later. Thanks again, Amanda.”

With that, she dashed from the apartment amidst a chorus of goodbyes and good lucks.

Luckily, the traffic wasn’t too bad, and she was only a few minutes late to meet her new co-worker but anything other than the agreed time was unacceptable in Arlene's eyes. 

Olivia jogged behind the lawyer as they crossed Pennsylvania Avenue towards the White House. It really was a sight to behold. Amanda had driven them past on Saturday, but nothing was quite like approaching it on foot. She slowed momentarily to take it all in.

“Olivia!” Arlene called, when she reached the guardhouse at the Northwest Executive Entrance and realised the younger woman wasn’t behind her.

Olivia sighed at the evident frustration in her voice and quickened her pace. Approaching the gate, she introduced herself to the guard on duty. “Hi, my name's Olivia Margaret Benson.”

“He just needs your driver's license,” Arlene told her as she handed hers over.

Olivia fished her own out of her purse and slid it over the desk to him. “I'm from New York.”

“He doesn't care.”

“I'm here for a meeting with Miss Calhoun.”

Arlene shook her head. “He doesn't need to know that.”

“Forgive me,” Olivia continued as the guard buzzed them through the gate. “This is my first time at the White House. I'm trying to savour the Capra-esque quality.”

“He doesn't know what Capra-esque means,” Arlene said, handing both hers and Olivia’s purses and briefcases to another guard to search.

“Yeah, I do,” protested the guard. “Frank Capra, great American director -- It's a Wonderful Life and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” He handed Olivia and Arlene their laminated security passes. “Olivia Margaret Benson of New York, knock 'em dead.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

_The White House,  
Washington D.C  
Tuesday, November 19, 2019 – 9.40am_

“The day the government starts subsidising private schools is the day we give up on public education,” Rafael told the Education Secretary as he wrapped up their meeting and politely ushered people out of the room.

“I know the proposal only scratches the surface, but it's the least we can do.”

“We’ll let Garland take a look at it,” interjected Carisi, leading the Education Secretary away, knowing that if he didn’t, this meeting would continue in the outer office. “We’ll revisit it the early part of next week.”

The President turned to the HUD Secretary. “Jerry, say hello to Linda for me. And if I don't see you again, have a good Thanksgiving.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

Once the Oval Office was empty, he approached Carmen’s desk. “So, how're we doing?”

“You're running four minutes ahead of schedule,” she told him proudly.

“Ahead?” he checked, thinking he can’t possibly have heard her correctly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Carmen, this is unprecedented.” He looked around aimlessly. “I don't know what to do with myself.”

“Miss Calhoun asked me to remind you to pop your head into–”

There was a spark of recognition in his brain and he nodded. “Oh, right, the JHF meeting. Yeah.”

* * *

_Rita Calhoun’s Office  
The White House  
Tuesday, November 19, 2019 – 9.40am_

“Rest assured, your concerns are not falling on deaf ears.” Rita spoke to the table of aides and representatives from the JHF. “The President is horrified by the number of untested rape-kits and survivors have known no greater ally in the White House then President Barba.”

“Hardly an impressive distinction, Rita,” remarked Olivia.

Arlene pushed her chair away from the table. “Olivia, we should leave Ms Calhoun alone now. She’s already given us more time than we were allocated.”

“Arlene, Ms Calhoun doesn’t want us to leave her alone, because Ms Calhoun has not yet done what she needs to do today.”

Arlene looks apologetically at Rita. “I’m sorry. Ms Benson has been thrown into the deep end of the pool on her first day. She hasn’t even had a chance to read the report of the Detroit conference.”

A little voice in Olivia’s brain was telling her to let it go, to just smile politely and leave as Arlene suggested. But she can’t do that. This is issue is too important.

“You’re right, I haven’t read it,” she admitted. “If someone had asked me yesterday, I’d have told them that the Detroit conference was made up of six professional hockey teams.”

There was a ripple of laughter from the Rita and the other attendees, but not from Arlene.

Olivia took a breath and began to make her point. “But you know what, I don’t actually need to read it to know that when it comes to the crime of sexual assault, the victim’s body is a part of the crime scene. Getting a rape-kit is an incredibly traumatic and invasive procedure. A doctor or nurse photographs, swabs and conduct a thorough examination of their entire body for DNA evidence left behind by the attacker – a process that can take four to six hours to complete.

“When tested, the DNA evidence contained by rape kits can be an incredibly powerful tool to solve and prevent crime. It can identify an unknown assailant and confirm the presence of a known suspect. It can affirm the survivor's account of the attack and discredit the suspect. It can connect the suspect to other crime scenes and identify serial offenders. It can also exonerate the wrongfully convicted.

“However,” Olivia continued, tapping her pen on the large document in front of her, “had I read these 800 pages, I would have discovered that hundreds of thousands of rape kits sit untested in police department and crime lab storage facilities across the country, which means hundreds of thousands of rapists go free. And that the thirty percent increase in federal funding recommended by the JHF is a necessary first step towards bringing healing and justice to survivors of sexual violence and safety to the streets of America.”

Arlene moved to stop the train wreck she was witnessing. “Olivia, I really think it’s time to–”

But Olivia, still on a roll, cut her off. “Arlene, I promise you, the White House Chief of Staff will not let us leave here until she's broken the bad news.”

The other attendees shared furtive glances, as Rita regarded Olivia with a look of amazed admiration.

The Chief of Staff turned to Arlene. “I’m afraid Olivia’s right. The President has asked me to convey to you that he’s sending the funding bill to the floor with a call for a fifteen percent increase.” She gave them a moment to take in the news before continuing. “Now, the President is willing to go it alone on this, but he’s asking for – and frankly he’s expecting – the full support of the JHF.”

Olivia could not believe what she was hearing. “The President’s expecting our full support?”

“Yes, he is.”

“The President’s dreaming, Rita.”

Arlene’s head whipped around. “Olivia!”

But Olivia ignored her. “The President has critically misjudged reality. If he honestly thinks the rape advocacy community are just going to stand idly by and whistle a happy tune while rallying support around this pitifully lame mockery of judicial leadership, just because he’s a nice guy and he’s done better than his predecessors, then your boss is the Chief Executive of Fantasyland.”

Had Olivia had been thinking of something other than her mini tirade, she may have heard the door behind her open, or noticed Rita biting her lip to avoid smirking as the President entered and gestured for everyone to keep their seats. But she did not.

The first she knew about it was when she heard Rita say, “Good morning, Mr President. How are you today?”

The room was quickly filled with the sound of chairs scraping the floor as the occupants of Rita’s office jumped to their feet.

“Honestly? I could use some coffee. I’ve only had one cup so far today.” He turned to the room. “My apologies for the interruption. Rita suggested I come by and say hello.” He looked at Olivia, who was willing the floor to open up and swallow her. “You wouldn’t be Olivia Benson, by any chance, would you?”

“Mr President, I’m… um… I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” he replied, sharing an amused look with Rita.

Wanting to smooth things over, Arlene held out her hand. “Mr President, we haven’t met, I’m Arlene Heller. I used to work with Congressman Tucker. I hope that this incident in no way jeopardises the good relationship the JH–”

“Olivia?”

“Yes sir?

“Do you have a second?” Rafael gestured to the door.

“Um. Of course.”

Rafael escorted her out of Rita’s office and closed the door behind them. “I thought maybe we might talk in private. Someplace a little less intimidating.”

She nodded, still too mortified to speak.

“Carmen!”

His aide, never far away, was at his side in seconds. “Yes sir?”

“Olivia, this is Carmen my personal aide. Carmen, would you show Ms. Benson to the rec room, please?"

“Of course, sir.”

“I'll be with you in a second,” Rafael assured Olivia as he disappeared through a door.

“This way, please.” Carmen led Olivia to another door a little further down the corridor and gestured for her to go in.

It was only once she was inside, that Olivia noticed the large desk in the middle of the room, the curved walls and the presidential seal on the floor. Her jaw when slack as she realised she was standing in the Oval Office. 

_‘This was somewhere the President thought would be ‘less intimidating’?’_ she thought. _‘Maybe for him, yes but me, not so much.’_

She stood uncomfortably as she took in her surroundings. Not knowing whether to sit or stand. Not knowing where to look. Replaying the last five minutes over and over in her head. Thinking about the ‘what-ifs’. What if her alarm clock hadn’t died and her morning hadn’t been such a rush? What if she’d just kept her mouth shut? What if Arlene Heller didn’t wind her up so badly that she felt like she needed to prove herself worth of the position Dodds had given her?

She was pulled from her thoughts by a door opening behind her and turned to see Rafael enter.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, walking past her to his desk.

“Mr President–”

“Is it okay if I call you Olivia?” He had done it several times already, but the manners instilled in him by his grandmother won out and he felt he should check it was all right.

“Of course. Mr President–”

“Have you ever been in the Oval Office?” he asked, picking up and reorganising some of the papers that sat there.

“N-no. This is my first time at the White House.”

“You should go on the tour. I hear it’s pretty good.”

“I will do that.” And she would. She’d already promised Noah. He’d been asking about touring the White House ever since she told him they were moving to D.C.. She took a breath. “Mr. President, what you saw in there was nothing more than vanity run amok. I was showing off for a colleague who doesn't think very much of me. It'd be a real injustice for you to hold the JHF accountable for my behaviour today. On top of which, I'm monumentally sorry for having insulted you like that.”

He looked up from his desk. “Are you under the impression that I'm mad at you?”

“Well... yes.”

“Olivia, seldom does a day go by that I'm not burned in effigy.”

“Yeah, but not by a professional political operative standing thirty feet from the Oval Office.”

“No, I'll give you that.” He moved out from behind his desk to stand opposite her, the full width of the room between them.

“Mr President, I–“

“Did you know that when the city planners sat down to design Washington, D.C., their intention was to build a city that would intimidate and humble foreign heads of state?”

“I didn't know that,” she admitted, filing that little fact away to tell Noah when she got home.

“Yeah, the White House has the single greatest home-court advantage in the modern world.”

“I learned that one the hard way.” 

“Olivia, this bill is important to me.”

“Yes, sir, I'll convey your message.”

“But you don't believe me?”

“The JHF is asking for thirty percent, sir.”

“It's not gonna pass at thirty percent. It's a long shot at fifteen.”

“How do you know that until you put the full weight of the White House behind it?”

“Olivia, at 30 percent, we are thirty-four votes shy in the House. It can't be done. But I tell you what.” He walked towards her as he spoke. “I'll make you a deal. If you can get twenty-four votes, I'll get you the last ten.”

“Twenty-four votes?”

“If you can swing twenty-four votes by the State of the Union, I'll promise you full White House support.”

“Do I have your word on that, sir?”

“Absolutely. Listen, are you hungry? I skipped breakfast. You wanna have some coffee? We could grab a donut or something?”

If his offer surprised Olivia, she didn’t show it. “Sir, I'm a little intimidated by my surroundings, and yes, I've gotten off to a rocky and a somewhat stilted beginning, but don't let that diminish the weight of my message: The JHF has been at every president for the last decade and a half that the rights of sexual assault survivors are being ignored by the federal government. The best psychologists, prosecutors and rape crisis counsellors have given you every reason to take the JHF seriously. But I'm gonna give you one more. If you don't live up to the deal you just made, come New Hampshire, we're gonna go shopping for a new candidate."

Olivia turned to leave.

“You can't do that, Olivia,” he called after her.

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “With all due respect, Mr. President, who's going to stop me?”

“Well, if you go through that door, the United States Secret Service. That's my private office.” He pointed to another door further along the wall. “You have to go out that way.”

“Ah. Right.”

Mustering up as much dignity as she can, Olivia left the Oval Office, desperately trying to ignore the smirk playing on the President’s face.

* * *

_The Residence_   
_The White House_   
_Tuesday, November 19, 2019 – 8.30pm_

Rafael leaned over the pool table, lining up his shot. With a quick glance at Rita, he pulled back the cue and let it go, watching as the orange ball rolled straight into the pocket he’d been aiming for.

They started playing pool together in college to unwind after a long day of lectures and classes. Back then, she was much better than he was, and she’d beat the pants off him every time. But the more they played, the better he got until eventually, in their second year, he beat her! It then became a heated competition as two who would have bragging rights, and a weekly game of pool became a staple of the time they spent together. Even with the long hours of work they put in at law school, they made time for it. Not even when Lauren was dying had they missed their weekly match. HIs wife had called Rita from the hospice and told her to come and take Rafael to the pool hall, knowing he needed the sense of routine and normality.

They carved out time to play on the busy campaign trail too, and after the election, when he and Gabriella met with the White House decorator to discuss designs for their new home, he made sure to ask for a pool room so he and Rita could continue their weekly tradition. It was a good way for them to decompress at the end of the day.

“Abraham, Buchanan and Braun know that we’re making our move on the crime bill. They’re circling the wagons on the assault weapons.”

 _‘Of course they are,’_ thought Rafael. “Should I meet with them?” he asked, chalking his cue.

“Let Sonny take a pass at them, first.”

“Fine.” He lined up his next shot. “Two-ball in the side.” Once again it rolled straight into the pocket.

“Nice shot, Mister President.”

Rafael raised an eyebrow. “‘Nice shot, Mister President’? You won’t even call me by my name when we’re playing pool?”

“I will not do it playing pool, I will not do it in a school. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them Sam, I am.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. There’s no need to invoke Dr Suess.” He moved to make his next shot, but noticed Rita standing behind the pocket that he wanted. He waved the cue at her. “Would you get away from the pocket?”

Rita put on the innocent act. “Oh, I’m sorry sir.”

“Yeah, right. You forget, I’m still scarred from you trying to distract me when it became clear I was going to beat you for the first time.”

In a desperate bid to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, she’d resorted to leaning over the pocket he had been aiming for, hoping the view down her low-cut top would distract him. It didn’t work. Rafael never saw Rita in that way – nor she him really - she just hadn’t wanted to lose.

“Had you been any other man, it would have worked.”

“But I’m not and it didn’t.” He went back to preparing his shot. “Nine ball in the corner.” Another ball pocketed.

“William Dodds phoned,” Rita told him. “He said he was thrilled with the deal you made this morning.”

“I forgot to tell you.”

“It’s a waste of time.”

Rafael shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s not our time. JHF makes a big push for the votes, and when they come up short, we move in with the softer bill. Get it passed. We're everybody's hero. Three in the side.”

“Also, Olivia Benson called.”

Hearing the name of the woman he had not been able to get out of his head since their brief meeting this morning caused Rafael to fumble his shot.

“O-Olivia Benson?”

Rita raised a knowing eyebrow. “She wanted to apologise one more time for her behaviour.” She rounded the table, standing next to Rafael. “Excuse me sir.” Rafael moved and Rita leaned over to line up her shot. “Three in the side.”

Rafael waited until she’d pocketed the ball before asking, “Did she say anything about me?”

“Ms Benson?”

He nodded. “When she called.”

“Did she say anything about you?”

“Well, it's just that we had a nice couple of minutes together. She threatened me. I patronized her. We didn't have anything to eat, but I thought there was a connection.”

Rita stared at him for a moment before turning her attention back to the table. “Thirteen in the corner.”

“She didn't say anything about me?”

She smirked. “Well, no sir, but I could pass her a note before study hall. One-ball in the corner.”

Rafael glared at her. “Tell me this. Hypothetically…”

“I feel a nightmare coming on,” she groaned and subsequently missed her shot.

“What would happen,” Rafael continued, “if I called Olivia Benson and asked her to be my date at the State Dinner on Thursday evening?"

“You're not serious?”

“Don't I sound serious?”

“The President can't just go out on a date.”

“Why not? Jefferson did. Wilson did.”

Rita braced herself for the history lecture she knew was coming. “Yes, but you’re not–”

Ignoring her, Rafael continued. “Wilson was widowed during his first term. He meets a woman named Edith Galt. He dated her, courted her, married her, and somewhere in there managed to form the League of Nations.” He moved round the table assessing his options.

Rita stood a little straighter, unable to believe she was even saying the next words. “Mr. President, this is an election year. If you're looking for female companionship, we can make arrangements that'll insure total privacy and–”

Rafael’s eyes widened as he comprehended what she was saying. “I don't want you to hook me up with a girl, Rita! What is this, Vegas?”

“No, sir, this is the White House.”

“And I'm talking about something that is in no way a conflict with my oath of office. I'm a single adult, and I met a woman that I'd like to see again socially. Now how is that different from what Wilson did?”

“The difference is he didn't have to be president on television. You've said yourself a million times: If there had been a TV in every living room sixty years ago, this country does not elect a man in a wheelchair.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we'll take a hit.”

“How big?”

“I don't know. Five points. Maybe more.”

“Five points? We’re standing here talking about five points?!”

“It could be more,” Rita pressed, knowing, even as she did so, that her words were falling on deaf ears.

“Five-ball in the corner.”

Rita sighed. “Do you want me to have Eddie put together some numbers, so we know what we're talking about?

“Yeah. Wait. No. No. I don't want to check a polling sample to see if this is okay, like I'm asking permission to stay out an hour past curfew. This is not the business of the American people.”

“With all due respect sir, the American people have a funny way of deciding on their own what is and what is not their business.”

“I like her, Rita.” He paused, looking at her. “Just stop being my Chief of Staff for one minute.”

Rita looked at her best friend. He hadn’t shown any interest in dating since losing Lauren. The two of them had been childhood sweethearts. Inseparable and totally, sickeningly devoted to each other. When she died, Rita thought the part of Rafael that was interested in relationships had died with her. But maybe she had been wrong.

Despite the knowledge that it was probably going to cause her several headaches, she couldn’t help but smile as she said, “Give her a call.”

“Carmen!” he called, before turning his attention back to Rita. “She didn't say anything about me?”

“She did say you were taller than she thought you'd be.”

“Well, I suppose that's something.”

Carmen entered. “Yes, sir?

“I need you to track down a phone number for me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael asks Olivia to accompany him to the State Dinner and we see how the two prepare for their evening as well as meeting a couple more characters from the SVU-verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback so far. I've added a couple of original scenes in here - hope you like them. :)

_Amanda’s Apartment  
Georgetown, Washington D.C.  
Tuesday, November 19, 2019 – 9.00pm_

Not long out of the shower and dressed in her pyjamas, Olivia was sorting through her briefcase, readying some papers for the next day, trying to get off the phone with her old friend and colleague Nick Amaro.

“Nick! Nick! It wasn’t funny. I acted like a college freshman at a protest rally.”

Amanda, who was stood at the kitchen table, tossing a salad, called over. “Tell him the part about walking out the wrong door.”

Olivia groaned. “Oh God, I forgot about that.” She pulled a few more files out of her briefcase as Nick spoke on the other end of the call. “No, Nick, no. No, I do not want to hear your Rafael Barba impression.”

“I wanna hear it,” Amanda told her.

“I’m hanging up now, Nick … Tonight? I was gonna go to bed early and wake up when there's a new president.”

She hung up and made her way to the kitchen table. Jesse and Noah had eaten earlier, but Olivia had waited for Amanda to get home so they could eat together. “The President must think I’m a third-rate jerk.”

“No, if he thinks you're a jerk, I'm sure he thinks you're a first-rate jerk.”

“I'll tell you one thing, though. I regrouped, you gotta give me that. I pulled it together at the end. I stood in the middle of the Oval Office and I made it very clear that from now on, he who doesn't take the JHF seriously does so at his peril!”

“Yeah, and then you walked out the wrong door.”

“Are you gonna be throwing that back at me for the rest of my life?”

“That's my current plan, yes.”

The ringing of the phone cut off any comeback Olivia may have had. “Oh, that’ll be Bill Dodds. He said he'd call at nine.” She walked back through the living room and reached for the cordless handset. “Hello?”

An unfamiliar voice came over the line. “Yeah, hi, is this Olivia?”

“Bill?”

“No, this is Rafael Barba.”

Olivia looked at Amanda, who was pouring them both a large glass of wine, and rolled her eyes before explaining. “Oh, it’s Rafael Barba. You're hilarious, Nick. You're just a regular riot.”

“No, this isn't Nick, it's Rafael Barba.”

She flopped down on the sofa. “Oh, really? Well, I'm so glad you called, because I forgot to tell you today what a nice ass you have. I'm also impressed that you were able to get my phone number, given the fact that I don't have a phone. Good night, Nick.”

She hung up and returned to the kitchen to have dinner with her friend. She’d barely been in her seat long enough to have a sip of her wine before the phone rang again.

“I don’t believe this.”

“Do you want me to deal with him?”

“No way. I may choke in front of Barba, but Nick Amaro I can handle.” She picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Olivia?” It was the same voice as before.

“Are you deaf?”

“Listen, do me a favour? Hang up the phone.”

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Hang up the phone and dial 202-456-1414. When you get the White House operator, give her your name and tell her you’d like to speak to the President.”

The line went dead, and Olivia stared at the phone, the horror of what had just happened sinking in. “Oh. My, God. This isn’t happening to me.”

Amanda looked over, concerned. “What’s going on?”

“No, no, no.” Olivia shook her head as she sat down. “It’s not possible I did this twice in one day.” She sighed before dialling the number she’d just been given, Amanda watching on with interest.

“Good evening, the White House.”

She swallowed. “Hi. My name is Olivia Benson. I'd like to–”

“The President’s expecting your call ma’am, I’ll put you right through.”

The line rang once before he picked up. “Hello.”

“Mr President. Um, I'm sure there's an appropriate thing to say at this moment. Probably some formal apology for the nice ass remark would be in order. I just… I just don't quite know how to word it.”

Rafael laughed. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn't have called you at home. Should I call you at the office tomorrow?

“No, no, of course not. I mean, yes, you can call me anytime you want. This is fine. Right now is fine. When I said, ‘of course not,’ I meant that...You know what? To hell with it, I'm moving to another country.”

“What did you mean when you said you didn’t have a phone?”

“Oh, I broke my cell and I just moved to Washington over the weekend, and my apartment isn’t ready yet. This is my best friend’s apartment. Come to think of it, how did you get this number?”

“How did I get the number. That’s a good question. I don't know. Probably the FBI.”

“The FBI. Sure. Because i-if you want to find someone and you're the President, that's who you’d call.!

“You know who else is good at that?!

“Uh, the C.I.A.?”

“Well, yeah, but I was thinking of the Internal Revenue Service. They have computer files that... Well... I should stop stalling.” He stood and began pacing the room. “As I'm sure you know, the French have elected themselves a new president, and we're having a formal state dinner at the White House, and I was wondering – and you're under no obligation at all – but I thought it might be fun... I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go... with me, and uh... That’s it. That's why I was calling.”

Olivia was stunned. Was the President of the United States asking her on a date?

“Olivia?” Rafael pressed. When she still didn’t respond, he continued. “Olivia, Congress doesn’t take this long.

“Mr President, you have asked me to join you in representing our country. I’m honoured and I would love to say yes, but I’m not sure I can get a sitter with this little notice.”

Amanda, who wasn’t exactly sure what was happened, but knew from the look on Olivia’s face and the side of the conversation she had been privy to, that Olivia could not turn down whatever invitation she just received. She stood, waving frantically, trying to get Olivia’s attention.

“A sitter?” Rafael asks. “Oh, I didn’t realise you had a child.”

“A son, Noah. He’s six. And, with being new in town, I don’t really know a lot of good babysitters.”

Amanda couldn’t remain quiet any longer. She moved to stand in front of Olivia, still waving her arms. “Hello! Am I invisible? I’m not working Thursday. I’ll watch Noah.”

Olivia glared at Amanda, before addressing Rafael. “Would you excuse me a moment, Mr President?” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and looked at Amanda. “What?”

“I said, I’m not working Thursday. I’ll watch Noah so you can go to…” she gestured to the phone, “whatever he has just invited you to.”

“A state dinner for the new President of France.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “Okay, you are definitely going!” She snatched the phone from Olivia’s hand.

“Amanda!” she hissed. Her arm shot out to take the phone back, but Amanda had the better reflexes and the phone was quickly out of her reach.

“Hello, Mr President. This is Amanda Rollins, Olivia’s best friend, temporary roommate, and sitter for Thursday night. She’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Okaaaay, I…”

Olivia snatched the phone back, glaring at Amanda as she spoke. “Mr President, I am so sorry. I don’t know what Amanda was thinking.”

He laughed. “It’s fine. I’m familiar with the concept of crazy best friends.” He thought of Rita and the things she’d done to him in the past. “So, Thursday night, you’ll come?”

“I’m would be honoured, sir.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“I… I'm a little... uh ...what do I do?” she laughed nervously. “I, I mean, y’know, where do I go? Will you… will you meet me? Should I…?”

“I'm gonna have a very nice man named John Munch call you. He's the White House Social Director and he’s gonna help you with anything that you want. Now when he calls you and tells you his name is John Munch; it'll help if you give him the benefit of the doubt.”

She giggled. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you Thursday night.”

“Mr. President, thanks for asking me, really. This is a first for me.”

“Me too.”

“Okay,” Amanda said when she’d hung up. “Clear your schedule tomorrow afternoon – we’re going shopping.”

* * *

_Barney’s  
Washington D.C.  
Wednesday, November 20, 2019 – 2.15pm_

Olivia scanned the rack in front of her, her teeth worrying the soft flesh of her bottom lip. She wondered how much longer this was going to take. They’d been traipsing around downtown D.C. for the past hour and a half and she was yet to find a dress she liked enough to wear to the White House.

Amanda’s voice drifted down the aisle. “I know you said you didn't want taffeta, but what do you think?”

Olivia glanced over. “I think it’s great except for the taffeta.” She picked a dress off the rack and held it up. “Do you like this?”

Amanda grimaced. “It’s a little pink,”

They continued browsing until Olivia noticed they were wandering into the more expensive section.

“Amanda, stop looking at the Vera Wangs.”

“Why?”

“Because they cost almost a month’s salary.”

“Okay, okay,” Amanda relented. “What about this one?”

Olivia stifled her laughter as she looked at the dress her friend was holding. It was probably the worst waste of expensive material she had ever laid eyes on. It was horrible and the bright yellow bow that was sewn on the front didn’t help at all.

“You’re not taking this seriously anymore,” Olivia scolded

“Well, you’ve not liked any of the ‘normal’ ones I’ve picked for you, so I thought I’d think outside the box.”

“Back inside the box, please.”

Jesse, who had insisted on accompanying them to _‘look at all the pretty dresses’,_ poked her head out from in between two of the gowns hanging on the rack and looked around. “What box?” she asked.

“I’ll let your mom explain,” Olivia said, taking the other few garments that were draped over Amanda’s arm and heading into the cubicle.

She hung the dresses on the rail and eyed them closely, picking out one to try first. It was a strappy midnight blue one, but it didn’t sit right on her chest. She sighed. The next one she tried made her look too frumpy. The last one of the three was a strapless, floor-length gown with a vivid red rose and silver pattern. It was a little bit bolder than she’d normally wear, but she figured she had nothing to lose by trying it on.

She glanced in the mirror once it was on and smiled. It actually looked quite good. She stuck her head out of the cubicle. “Amanda?” she called, wanting a second opinion.

Amanda and Jesse hurried over and Olivia nervously stepped out.

“Wow, Auntie Olivia. You look really pretty,” declared Jesse.

“She’s right,” Amanda agreed. “That’s the one. Do _you_ like it?”

“It’s not what I’d normally have chosen, but…” she tilted her head and examined the dress again in the mirror, “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, that settles it then.”

“I’ll need new shoes.”

Amanda looked her up and down. “And I’ve seen the perfect ones. Wait here.”

Olivia glanced around. She was barefoot in a $400 gown that she hadn’t yet paid for, her own clothes piled up on the stool in the changing room. Where exactly did Amanda think she would go?

Her friend returned moments later with a pair of black, peep-toe court shoes with glittered backs. Olivia slipped her feet into them and turned to the mirror once more to take in her appearance. She nodded. With her hair up and some well applied make-up, she was sure she wouldn’t look too out of place at the dinner

Amanda looked at her watch. “You’d better get changed if we’re going to make it to pick Noah up. We’ve still got to find you a purse and I think we should make a stop at the lingerie department.”

“Amanda!”

She looked back at her innocently. “What?”

“I’m going to an official White House engagement. There is no need for me to be buying new…” she glanced at Jesse and lowered her voice to a whisper, “underwear.”

“An official White House engagement with a very attractive, single man who liked you enough after you insulted him to track down my unlisted number to invite you.”

“He’s the President!”

Amanda waved a hand dismissively. “A minor detail. Have you seen his a–” she quickly covered Jesse’s ears, “ass?”

“‘Manda!” She glanced around quickly, hoping no one was listening.

“I’m just saying, who knows what will happen once the champagne starts flowing.”

“Nothing. Nothing will happen.”

“Okay Liv; whatever you say.”

* * *

_Gabriella Barba’s Bedroom  
The White House Residence  
Thursday, November 21, 2019 – 7.20pm_

“Will you sit still?” Gabriella pleaded, an exasperated look on her face. She was knelt on her bed, behind her father who was sat on the edge, putting the finishing touches to his bow tie.

“Ah, that's a little tight, Gabby.”

“It's supposed to be tight,” she informed him. “It's supposed to make you look regal.”

“Is it supposed to cut off the blood flow to my face?”

Gabriella made a couple of final adjustments to ensure the tie was straight before declaring, “All done.”

Rafael stood and looked in the mirror. “That’s not half bad,” he praised. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

“Social studies,” she quipped. The textbook her father had given her had, as she’d expected, haunted their dinners for the past two evenings. At least, she wouldn’t be subjected to more questions about constitutional amendments tonight. Part of her was a little disappointed not to be able to attend the dinner, but her father had promised that when the cast of _Hamilton_ performed at the White House next year, he’d make sure it wasn’t a school night.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” he smiled. “Really, where did you learn that?”

“I don't know... I guess I just picked it up somewhere.”

She tried to be nonchalant about it, but the wistful look in her eyes gave her away.

“ _Mija_ , did _Mami_ teach you how to do that?”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah.”

Rafael returned to the bed and sat back down next to his daughter. “Gabby, is this okay with you? My having dinner with a lady?”

She nodded. “It's totally okay.”

“Are you sure?” He stroked her hair. “Because if you want to talk about anything...”

“Dad, it's cool. Go for it.”

When her mother had died, an eight-year-old Gabriella had been devastated by the loss – even though her mom had been sick and they’d known it was coming – and she’d clung to her father more than ever before. So much so that she’d assumed that their family would just now be her and her father forever. The two of them against the world.

But as she’d gotten older and began to become a little more interested in boys herself, she’d come to realise that that might not be the case and that it wasn’t really fair to expect it to be. In six years, she’d be off to college and her father wouldn’t have the job of President to fill his days. She didn’t want him to be lonely – and knew her mom wouldn’t want that either – so she decided that, should her father ever meet someone, she would try very hard to be open minded about it.

As soon as she’d left the dining room table the night he had – rather awkwardly – told her about his date for her the state dinner, she’d pulled out her phone and googled Olivia Benson. A quick glance at her LinkedIn page informed her that Olivia was a graduate of Vassar, having studied Psychology and Women’s Studies and worked for several organisations focused on the empowerment of women including short stints at EMILY’s List and the National Organisation for Women, before moving to Planned Parenthood, where she worked at their offices in Pennsylvania and Michigan. After hearing harrowing stories from some of the women she met there, she trained as a rape crisis counsellor. This led her to work on multiple education and awareness campaigns around the issues of consent, sexual crimes and domestic violence and advocated for justice for survivors of those terrible crimes.

Her name came up in connection with several high-profile court cases in Michigan. One where a college student had made an adult film to put herself through college and was then raped by two boys on her campus who had used the film as their defence, and another where a girl had been suspended from her college for making a rape allegation against a historic fraternity. In both instances she had petitioned the police department, the DA’s office, and the congressperson on behalf of the victims and had generated a raft of publicity about the cases.

It had been hefty reading for the near-teenager, but there was no graphic detail, so Gabriella wasn’t shocked. She knew things like this happened – you couldn’t be the daughter of the President without knowing more about the evils of the world than most other children your age. Gabriella had been impressed by what she’d found out about Olivia; she seemed like a passionate and principled individual who was willing to stand up for what she believed in, no matter how unpopular it made her with the powers that be. She was the type of woman Gabriella looked up to, strong like the other female role models in her life – which was why the teenager had no problem with her father taking her to the State Dinner.

“Y’know, I'm a little nervous.” Her father confessed as he adjusted his suspenders and shrugged on the jacket he had lain over the chair when he came into his daughter’s room.

“You'll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Rafael sounded sceptical.

“Yeah and compliment her shoes.”

“Her shoes?”

“Yeah, girls like that.”

“Okay. Thanks. Well, I’ll see you in the morning, _mija_. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t. Oh, and Dad?” she called after him. He turned in the doorway. “Have fun.”

Once he’d gone, she reached for the remote and switched on the TV to watch the guests arrive. She loved to see what everyone was wearing; it was all so glitzy and glamorous.

After a few minutes, the voiceover describing the scene ended and they cut to a news reporter standing in the hall, with the Senate Minority Leader, Peter Stone,

“Senator, I appreciate that for the next few hours this will be a non-partisan White House, but the latest public opinion survey shows the President with approval ratings that would make him all but unbeatable come next November. Is there a Republican who can mount a serious challenge, and are you that candidate?”

“Well, Lloyd, it's a long time till next November. Right now, I'm just looking forward to a pleasant evening.”

“Ugh!” Gabriella violently stabbed the standby button and tossed the remote aside, unable to look at Peter Stone’s smug smile any longer.

* * *

_North Portico_  
The White House  
Thursday, November 21, 2019 – 7.20pm

As the car the White House sent for her pulled up outside the entrance being used for the state dinner, the butterflies in Olivia’s stomach began fluttering madly. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening to her. Or why. She’d gone over it a million times in her head.

She exited the car and through the door held open by a Marine in dress blues. She handed her clutch in to be searched and stepped through the metal detector. As the guards handed her purse back to her, she heard a voice call her name.

“Ms Benson?”

Olivia looked up and recognised Carmen from the previous day. “Oh, hi.”

“The President would like you to join him upstairs in the residence. May I show you the way?”

“Of course.”

Carmen led her to a reception area where several specially selected guests were being offered drinks and canapés. There was a low rumble of chatter and soft, classical music filled the air. Rita spotted Olivia enter and went to greet her immediately.

“Olivia, come on in. You look gorgeous. I love the dress.”

“Thanks. Although I have no idea what I'm doing here.”

“I promise you there's no hidden agenda.” She motioned for a man to join them. “This is my partner, Odafin. You know each other.”

They did. They had worked together ten years ago – before he’d met Rita – and had been good friends. But as often happens when one colleague moves on, they had fallen out of touch. The only contact they had now was through Facebook, liking the odd status or picture that the other posted.

“Yes.” She regarded her old friend. “It’s good to see you again, Fin.”

He opened his arms and hugged her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You too, Liv.”

Rafael arrived at the entrance to the Yellow Oval Room to see Olivia pulling back from an embrace with Fin Tutuola and hung back for a moment to look at her.

_‘God, she’s beautiful.’_

Her hair was swept up in a chignon, with tendrils falling around her face. The dress she was wearing hugged her curves and shimmered in the light when she moved. It showed just the right amount of bare skin across her neck and shoulders to tease but still appear sophisticated and elegant. It was floor length though, so he’d have to forgo Gabriella’s advice about complimenting her shoes. But it didn’t matter. She was a vision, and she was his date for the evening.

Talking a steadying breath, he stepped across the threshold and approached her. “Olivia.” He held out his hand. “Rafael Barba. We spoke on the phone.”

Ignoring the ripples of laughter from Rita and Fin, she shook his hand. “Yes, sir. I remember.”

“Would you excuse me for a moment.”

“The President told me how you two met, Liv.” Fin said, as Rafael disappeared to greet some of the other guests. “It’s a hell of a story!”

“I don't really know what happened. One minute, I was calling him a mockery of a judicial leader. The next minute, I had a date.”

“Men like being insulted by women,” Rita told her, leading the way further into the room. “It makes them feel loved. Don't ask me why.”

Fin smirked. “Yeah, so when you meet the French President, Liv don't make him feel too loved, all right? They’ve just signed a new trade agreement that kept Rita here until all hours of the morning, and I was just getting used to having her home at a reasonably decent hour.”

She glared at him. “Oh, ha ha.”

Rafael returned, accompanied by the French head of state. “Mr. President, would you allow me to introduce to you Olivia Benson of the State of New York. Olivia, this is President Rene-Jean D'Astier and his wife Monique Danielle D'Astier of France.”

President D’Astier took her outstretched hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “It is a great pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, it’s an honour to meet you both,” she replied, shaking Mrs D’Astier’s hand.

There was a soft cough behind them, and they turned to see Carmen. “Mr. President, I'm sorry to interrupt. The receiving line is in place.”

Rafael turned to her. “Olivia, it sounds like our table's ready.”

He gestured with her to walk with him and the two of them made their way to the Grand Staircase where the Colour Guard were waiting to lead them, and their honoured guests, to the dinner.

As they followed the French president and his wife down the stairs – the rules of etiquette meant the visiting head of state should always go first – Rafael explained how the beginning of their evening would go, wanting her to feel as comfortable as possible.

“When we get to the bottom of the stairs, I’ve got to do a thing, but you’ll be escorted–”

“They took me through it.”

“Oh, good.”

There were a few moments of silence then before Olivia couldn’t keep her curiosity at bay any longer. “Do you do this often, sir?”

“Well, this is, actually, only our second State Dinner. The first was for the Emperor of Japan, who died shortly after, so we stopped having them for a while, just in case.”

She shook her head. “No, I meant, do you go out on... do you often…”

“Do I date a lot?”

“Well, yeah.”

“No. You?”

“Me? Well, lately I seem to be going out on a lot of first dates,” she told him. “When most men find out you have a small child, they don’t tend to call again.”

“Then they’re idiots.” Rafael held her gaze for a moment and gave her a small half-smile. “So, in comparison to the other first dates you’ve had recently, how are we doing so far?”

“It's hard to say at this point,” she told him as they arrived at the bottom of the stairs to the flashes of the waiting press cameras. “Y’know, so far it's just your typical first date stuff.”

He smiled and played along with her teasing. “Damn. And I wanted to find a way to be different from the other guys.”

At the point, the Marine Corps Brass and Percussion Ensemble began to play four ruffles and flourishes to signal their arrival.

Rafael stood beside the President D’Astier and Olivia took the arm of the Marine waiting to take her to her seat. As the announcer’s voice came over the speakers, Rafael turned to look at her once last time.

“Oh, by the way, I like the dress.”

The opening bars of _Hail to the Chief_ boomed through the room, and Rafael joined the French president and his wife in the ceremonial procession through to the receiving line. Olivia smiled as she watched on, completely swept up by the whole thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia accompanies Rafael to the State Dinner...

_State Dining Room,  
The White House  
Thursday, November 21, 2019 – 9.00pm_

“More champagne?” a steward asked over Olivia’s shoulder.

She glanced back and nodded politely. “Yes, please.”

She was having a wonderful time. They were seated at a round table, she on Rafael’s left, and Rita and Fin on his right. Also at their table were President D’Astier, the Secretary of State, and their wives.

The hall was beautifully appointed in shades of cream and gold, with the tables set with intricately decorated china. Floral centrepieces comprising white roses and hydrangeas alongside cedar and dried eucalyptus leaves and set in elegant gold and cut-glass vases adorned every table and hand rolled candles helped provide a warm glow in the room.

The opening remarks made by both presidents had been impassioned, heartfelt and funny. Olivia had been surprised by how much she had laughed. Oh, and the food! She didn’t think she had eaten anything as luxurious and delicious in a long time, if ever.

They had started with goat cheese gateau, tomato jam and buttermilk biscuit crumbles followed by a ‘Winter Garden Salad’ of mixed radish, baby carrots, and merlot lettuce dressed with a red Wine vinaigrette. The main course was dry-aged rib eye beef served with a blue cheese from Vermont, charred shallots, oyster mushrooms and braised chard. But the dessert had been her favourite. Hawaiian chocolate-malted ganache served a la mode with freshly made vanilla ice cream.

Taking a sip of her freshly topped up champagne, she noticed that the guests of honour were rather quiet so leant over to Rafael.

“Mr. President, the President and Mrs. D'Astier look bored. They're not talking to anyone.”

He glanced at them and then whispered, “They’re hammered.”

A giggle bubbled from Olivia’s throat and Rafael turned to his right.

“Rita, you speak French, don’t you?”

“Latin.”

“I thought you spoke French.”

“No, Latin, which is why I picked up on the legal terminology faster than you did at Harvard.”

“Hmm, well next time Julius Caesar comes to town, you're our girl.” Fin and the Secretary of State laughed. Rafael turned to Olivia. “I don't suppose that you speak any—”

Without giving him an answer, she turned to face the French president.

“Monsieur le President, nous sommes tous habilles, nous avons ce merveilleux orchestre, une piece magnifique... comment se fait-il que les invites ne dansent pas?”

Rafael looked on in awe. Yes, he was bilingual, but that was only because of his heritage. He nudged Rita, who wore a similar look of amazement. “That's my date.”

President D’Astier replied, “Mademoiselle Benson, Je ne connais pas la tradition en Amerique, mais dans mon pays, si les invites de Louis XVI et Marie Antoinette avaient ose danser devant le roi et la reine, ils auraient perdu la tete.”

“Really?” Olivia couldn’t help but fall back to English as she heard his response.

“Absolument,” agreed Mrs D’Astier, with a nod.

“Olivia, you didn't just dissolve our trade agreements, did you?”

She laughed. “No. I just said that we're sitting in this beautiful room, listening to the music of this wonderful orchestra, and I wondered why nobody was dancing.”

“And I informed Ms. Benson,” President D’Astier continued, “that in my country, a guest at the palace of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette would soon find their head in a guillotine if they made the impertinent gesture of dancing without so much as a by-your-leave from the King and the Queen.”

Rita smiled. “I'll bet no one accused Louis of being soft on crime.”

Olivia took a sip of her champagne, before adding, “There's a lesson there, Mr. President.”

Rafael smacked his hand down on the table theatrically. “More beheadings at the White House?”

“Peter Stone would embrace it," Fin quipped.

“I'm sure he would,” agreed Rafael, removing his napkin, and placing it on the table, “but I have a better idea.” He stood, buttoned his jacket, and held out his hand to Olivia. “Would you like to dance?”

Olivia looked up at him. “Uh, yeah, I guess.” Then she remembered who she was speaking to. “I mean, yes, sir, I'd love to.”

She took his hand and allowed him to lead her through the tables to the dancefloor. As they moved, a hush came over the room and by the time Rafael took her in his arms, the only sound in the room was the orchestral music.

Rita watched as her best friend led Olivia around the dance floor in a traditional waltz. She knew this dance would be the lead story in all the papers tomorrow. Hell, it would be all over social media before midnight. But she ignored the potential issues that could bring for a moment and allowed herself a small smile at the sight of a relaxed, happy Rafael. Reaching over, she took Odafin’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He turned his hand over under hers and interlaced their fingers, returning her smile before looking back at the dance floor. “They look good together.”

“Yeah, they do,” she agreed.

The eyes of each and every one of the guests were fixated on the captivating sight of Rafael and Olivia moving elegantly around the dance floor and Olivia was conscious of their attentions.

Exhaling deeply, she whispered, “I don't know how you do it.”

“I’m Cuban-American. Dancing’s in my blood.”

She giggled. “That's not what I mean. Two hundred pairs of eyes are focused on you right now, with two questions: ‘Who's this girl?’ and ‘Why is the President dancing with her?’”

“Well, first of all, the 200 pairs of eyes aren't focused on me; they're focused on you. And the answers are ‘Olivia Margaret Benson’ and ‘Because she said yes’."

“That doesn’t really help with the nerves. In fact, you might have made them worse,” she admitted.

“Sorry.”

She shook her head lightly. “It’s okay. After three years, I expect you’re used to constant attention.”

“To a degree, yeah.” He leaned in closer. “Ignore them, just focus on me.”

She took a deep breath and met his gaze. Looking into his soft, green eyes, calmed her nerves a little, but did nothing for her racing heart.

Rafael could tell Olivia was still a little nervous so the next time they turned in a direction where he was facing their table, his eyes sought out Rita. He tilted his head slightly and gave her a pointed look.

She got the message straight away, putting down her champagne flute and tapping Fin on the arm. “We’re up,” she said, nodding towards the dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” Fin protested. “You know I don’t dance.”

He’d been accompanying her to these events ever since the campaign and he’d danced with her on one night, and one night only, at the inaugural balls. And one dance at each of the nine balls was more than enough to last him the duration of their term of office. He told himself he would revisit his position if they got re-elected.

“It’s the President who’s asking, Odafin” she informed him. “I think Olivia is feeling a little overwhelmed with just the two of them out there. If we join them, other people will too and then we can slip away. It’ll be one dance.” She stood up and leaned down to whisper in is ear, her fingers gently playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He looked up at her, his eyebrow raised. “Is that so?”

“Oh, definitely.”

With the promise of a reward when they got home, Fin gave in and escorted Rita onto the dance floor to join Rafael and Olivia. As Rita had predicted, they were swiftly followed by others.

Olivia gave Fin a grateful look as he and Rita glided past them and found that the more couples that joined them on the dance floor, the more relaxed she became.

Olivia spent the rest of the evening dancing, talking, and laughing with Rafael. She asked about Gabriella and he enquired after Noah but, much to her relief, didn’t ask about his father. This wasn’t the place for that discussion. They swapped stories about growing up in New York and discovered that they had a mutual love of the theatre and food.

“Best New York food?” she asked him.

“Other than coffee?”

She laughed. “Coffee is its own food group?”

“It is in my world.”

“Okay, best New York food _other_ than coffee.”

“That’s a tough question…” Rafael mused for a few seconds. “Bagels maybe. There’s this great place on East Houston; been there for over a hundred years.”

“Yes! _Russ and Daughters_.”

“You know it?”

“Is there anyone from New York who doesn’t? Although, I’ve not been for a while.”

“You moved away, right?”

“I went back for a bit after Vassar, but my work took me elsewhere.”

“Do you miss it?

“Occasionally, but I’m happy with the choices I made. I do miss the cheesecake though. There’s nothing quite like eating a New York style cheesecake in New York. Especially from Juniors.”

“Juniors?”

“It’s a diner on 45th Street between Broadway and 8th Avenue. They serve the largest, most delicious slices of cheesecake I’ve ever had. Honestly, I think I’d even go as far as to say they’re better than se–” She clamped her lips together as she remembered where she was and who she was talking to, and cursed the champagne for making her loose-lipped.

Rafael raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “That good, eh?”

She nodded, wondering if she could blame the redness of her cheeks on the alcohol.

“Well, I’ll have to make sure I try some next time I’m in town.”

“You should certainly do that, sir.”

Olivia was saved from any further embarrassment by Rita announcing it was time for she and Rafael to do the rounds and make the obligatory small talk with the invited diplomats, Olivia and Fin used the time to for an overdue catch up. 

At the end of the evening, Olivia waited in the Cross Hall with Fin and Rita, while Rafael escorted President and Mrs D’Astier to the North Portico and the limousine that would take them back to Blair House. On his return, Rafael found Olivia preparing to leave.

“My car is ready,” she explained.

Rafael nodded and led her down the hallway, his hand finding the small of her back as they walked. There were several Secret Service agents around, but they gave the President plenty of breathing room knowing that this part of the building was secure.

“I hope you enjoyed tonight?”

“I had a wonderful time. Thank you again for asking me.”

“Thank _you_ for saying yes. Decent company can be hard to come by at these flashy events.”

They soon reached the boundary of where the Secret Service were comfortable allowing the President to wander without them being in close proximity. The nearer he got to the door, the higher the risk to his security. When Rafael saw them move closer, he came to a halt.

“Looks like this is as far as I can go,” he told her, tipping his head towards Agent Cooper, primed and ready for action if needed.

“Right…”

They turned to face each other, and Olivia’s breath hitched at the fondness and affection in his eyes. Butterflies danced in her stomach as his gaze dropped to her lips and, for a moment, she wondered if he was going to kiss her. As quickly as that thought flitted through her brain, so did another - there were too many eyes here. While she was sure the Secret Service were paid to be discreet, Rita and Fin were still stood further down the hall and there were several stewards and servers still milling about, cleaning up after the event.

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from his and, with a warm smile, held out her hand.

“Good night, Mr President.”

Rafael’s warm hand encircled hers, but instead of shaking it as Olivia expected, he lifted it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it. At the look of surprise on her face, he flashed her a half smile. “Well, I couldn’t be outdone by a Frenchman now, could I?” he quipped.

Olivia couldn’t help but return his smile.

Rafael caressed the spot where he had kissed her with his thumb, before releasing her hand. “Good night, Olivia.”

As the chauffeured car pulled away from the White House and into the night, Olivia gazed out of the rear window, taking in the magnificent view of the illuminated building as it slips out of sight. She folded her hands together on her lap and her thumb came to rest over the spot that Rafael had kissed as they’d said their goodbyes. She could still feel the touch of his lips and she found herself running her thumb gently back and forth over the back of hand, as if reminding herself that it did happen.

She was wrong with what she’d told Amanda. Something had happened. Something she had welcomed and enjoyed. She just wasn’t sure what would happen next.

* * *

_The West Wing  
The White House  
Friday, November 22, 2019 – 8.25am_

“Good morning, Mrs. Tillinghouse.”

Rafael, still riding high on his date with Olivia last night, strode happily into the outer office of the Oval.

“Good morning, Mr. President.” She handed him a mug of coffee. “Mr. Carisi and Miss Cox are in the office, sir. They said they needed to speak with you before scheduling.”

Rafael glanced into the room. Carisi and Pippa were stood by his desk, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. He had an inkling as to what this was about and could feel his current good mood slipping away.

“Fine,” he sighed, before turning to his aide. “Carmen, can you get me the number of a local florist?

“I'll take care of it, sir. Where do you want them sending?”

He shook his head. “No, I want to do it myself. I just need the phone number.”

“I don't understand.”

“I want the phone number of a florist,” Rafael repeated, wondering how much clearer he could be.

Carmen’s brow furrowed. “You just want the phone number?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I don't understand, sir, is there a problem–”

He exhaled. “I want to send some flowers, Carmen. I want to do it myself. I don't want to staff it out, and I don't want to issue an Executive Order. I just want a phone number.”

Suitable chastened, Carmen nodded. “I'll get it for you right away, sir.”

“Thank you.”

He headed into the office. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” they both chorused before Pippa said,

“Mr. President, we need five minutes before scheduling if you can spare it.”

“I just need two minutes to make a call and I'll be right with you.”

As if on cue Carmen entered with a slip of paper. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thank you.”

He moved to pick up the phone but stopped upon realising that Carisi and Pippa were still in the office. He raised his head to look at them.

“Who are we calling, sir?” Carisi asked.

Rafael’s patience snapped. “I'm calling the Organization of the United Brotherhood of It's-None-of- Your-Damn-Business, Sonny. I'll be with you in a minute.”

“Yes, sir,” Carisi said and followed Pippa out of the office.

Rafael took a sip of his coffee and sat down before picking up the phone and speaking to the operator. “Yeah, good morning. How do I get an outside line?... Really?... That's simple. Thank you.”

He dialled the number Carmen had given him.

“Hi. Good morning, is that Janie’s House of Flowers? … Good, I’d like to order some flowers please. … Well tell me, what is the state flower of New York?” Despite hailing from the ‘Big Apple’ his knowledge of the state symbols wasn’t as good as it should be, especially for someone who was their Governor.

“Well is there anyone there who might know… no I’m not trying to be difficult. Hang on please…” and he put the florist on hold.

Meanwhile, Carisi and Pippa were hovering in the outer office.

“Carmen?”

“Yes, Sonny?

“What's the President doing?”

“I'm sorry, I'm really not at liberty to say.”

Unhappy with that answer, Pippa – who had been fielding queries from the press gaggle since the moment she’d walked in that morning – pressed Carmen further. “Does this have something to do with Olivia Benson?”

“I’m really _not_ at liberty to say.”

Suddenly the intercom on Carmen’s desk beeped and the President’s voice rang out. “Carmen, what is the state flower of New York?”

Not being ‘up’ on her state flowers, Carmen threw the query to her colleague, while trying to ignore the looks she was getting from Carisi and Pippa. “Mrs Tillinghouse, state flower of New York?”

“Red rose.”

Carmen pressed the intercom and relayed the message. “It’s the red rose, sir.”

“Thank you,” Rafael returned to his call with the florist. “It’s the red rose. Simple Classic. Two dozen?” When she asked him how he wanted to pay, he was forced to put her on hold once more.

Sonny wasn’t finished trying to get information out of the President’s aide. “Carmen, I am the president’s Senior Domestic Policy Advisor, and it’s important I have a full understanding of–”

The intercom buzzed again. “Carmen, do you know where my credit cards are?”

Pippa raised her eyebrows heavenward and shook her head, as Carmen replied, “They’re in storage in Manhattan with the rest of your personal items.”

Having no luck with the credit cards, Rafael suggested the florist bill him for the flowers, assuring her that it would be alright with her boss. As expected, the girl on the phone wanted to know who to send the bill too.

“Well,” said Rafael. “I don’t know if you recognise my voice, but this is the President.” His face fell at the response. “Of the United States,” he clarified.

The line went dead. “Hello? Hello?” Rafael looked at the receiver and sighed. Clearly, he would not be sending flowers to Olivia today. Time for plan B.

* * *

_Joyful Heart Foundation Headquarters,  
Washington D.C.  
Friday, November 22, 2019 – 10.20am_

Across town, Olivia was working up a strategy to secure the twenty-four votes she needed to get the White House support she had been promised, when she was summoned to Bill Dodds’ office.

She rapped lightly on the door and then let herself in. “Bill, you wanted to see me?”

He leant back in his chair as she sat down opposite him. “So, there I was, thinking, ‘Maybe I should give Olivia a call. She's new in town, doesn't know many people’...” He flipped open his iPad and slid it across the desk. His Twitter app was open and there were several photos of her dancing with Rafael on his timeline. “Then I saw this.”

She’d known this was coming. Photos of her and Rafael dancing had been all over social media by the time she’d got home from the White House. Amanda had waited up wanting to hear all the details and informed her of the deluge of posts. She had only seen the few, well-chosen examples Amanda had shown her, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe the response had been completely positive. She was grateful she hadn’t yet had time to add her social media accounts to her new cell-phone.

“It was crazy. He called me at home.”

“What's going on?”

“Nothing,” she protested. “It was innocent. His cousin got the flu at the last minute.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Bill.”

“Did you sleep–”

She sat up straighter in her chair, her hackles rising. “That's none of your business, Bill.”

“Yeah, it is, Olivia.”

“You wanna tell me how my personal life in any way–”

“Because when it's the President, it's not personal.” He stood and began pacing behind his desk. “I hired your reputation, Olivia. I hired a pit bull, not a prom queen.”

“That's unfair.”

“I agree, it's incredibly unfair. But unfortunately, in today’s world that’s the way it is.”

“You're making way too much of this.”

“Am I? This is your time, Olivia. You're sitting at the grown-ups' table. You have a chance to be a major player in this organisation – run a national campaign, make a difference to the lives of thousands of survivors. But this relationship had better go all the way, because with the leader of the free world there is no halfway.” He stopped pacing and perched on the front of his desk. “Politics is perception, and if things don't work out, the amount of time it'll take you to go from being a hired gun to a cocktail party joke can be clocked with an egg timer.”

“Bill, there is no relationship. It was one night. It's done.”

But as she spoke, she knew that wasn’t quite true. She couldn’t help but remember the feeling of being in his arms as they’d danced, of their moment as they said goodbye. There was definitely some sort of connection between them.

The was a quick knock on the door and Dodds’ secretary stepped in, carrying a basket.

“Mr. Dodds, this was just delivered by White House messenger. It's marked ‘perishable’."

Dodds regarded the basket as his secretary set it on the corner of his desk. “The White House has sent me something perishable?”

She shook her head. “It's for Ms. Benson.”

“Oh well, here we go...”

Olivia reached for the white envelope pinned to the basket. “Relax, Bill. I'm sure it's just a formality.”

The secretary couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice as she said, “It's from him.”

“Of course it's from him,” Dodds agreed.

Olivia, who had begun to worry slightly about her reputation at the JHF, was still trying to downplay the whole thing. “So, he had some staff flunky send me a fruit basket.”

“Oh, he wrote the note himself,” his secretary informed her.

“I'm sure he didn't take the time to–”

“The messenger said he waited in the Oval Office for ten minutes while the President wrote the card.”

“Okay, listen, so he–” she stopped abruptly as the secretary’s words permeated her distracted brain. She turned to her. “It took him ten minutes to write the card?”

She nodded. “Apparently he went through several drafts.”

Olivia hurriedly opened the envelope and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face as she read his words.

_Olivia_

_Thank you for a wonderful evening._

_I'm not sure that even the White House dessert chef can live up to the colourful description you gave last night, but I hope this will be a good enough substitute until the next time you can make it to Junior’s._

_Rafael_

She unwrapped the blanket, laughing as she confirmed her suspicions about its contents.

“What is it?” Dodds asked.

Carefully, Olivia lifted the gift out of the basket. “A cheesecake. He sent me a New York style cheesecake.”

Dodds’ secretary gasped. “Dig it, Ms. Benson. You're the President's girlfriend.”

Olivia smile faded away as she turned to look at Dodds, who was regarding her with a telling expression.

“There's never an egg timer around when you need one.”

* * *

_The Oval Office,_  
The White House  
Friday, November 22, 2019 – 11.50am

Rafael sat at the Resolute Desk reviewing the remarks for his luncheon speech whilst conferring with Carisi and Pippa about a few items of business that had come up during the morning press briefing.

“Sir, they were pressing this morning about whether the White House is prepared to soften the assault weapons section of the crime bill,”

Carisi quickly jumped in, “There is no need to entertain that at this point.”

Pippa looked from him to Rafael and when he nodded his agreement, she continued. “How do you want me to handle the Olivia issue?”

Rafael’s gaze snapped to hers “The Olivia issue?”

“Well, we should have a consensus on how the White House is going to handle it,” agreed Carisi.

It had taken all of Pippa’s poise and patience to rein in the press at that morning’s briefing. She had gone out armed with plenty of other news-worthy stories that the press would normally love to sink their teeth into but, somewhat unsurprisingly, all they had wanted to ask questions about was the President’s date with Olivia Benson.

“I really don’t think–” Rafael began, but was prevented from continuing his thought when Carmen poked her head in.

“Excuse me, Mr. President, Ms. Benson is here to see you.”

“Tell her she can come right in; I am finished here.”

“Yes, sir.”

He tapped the edge of his notecards on the desk as he told his senior staff in no uncertain terms, “There is no Olivia issue.”

Olivia entered, crossing paths with Carisi and Pippa as they left. They exchanged pleasantries before Carmen closed the door to give Rafael and Olivia some privacy.

“Hi. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

Rafael stood and walked round his desk to meet her, lips curving into a smile as he watched her. He was glad she was here – already he could feel the stress of his day fading away.

“No problem. Did you get the cheesecake?”

Olivia laughed, able now to get past her embarrassment at her almost slip the previous evening. “Yes, I got the cheesecake. Thanks.”

“I wanted to send you flowers, but there seem to be some kinks in the system.”

Olivia wanted to tell him that it was okay, that the cheesecake was more than enough, and she hadn’t expected anything, but the words stuck in her throat as she found herself face to face with Rafael again. He looked just as handsome here in the middle of his workday as he had in his tuxedo the night before and she could feel the same pull towards him as she had at the end of the dinner.

“I'm really glad you stopped by,” Rafael continued. “I had such a good time last night.”

So much so that as soon as he had returned to the residence, he had been wondering how long was appropriate to wait before calling her. He’d debated asking Rita, but in the end decided that if he hadn’t heard from her by the end of the day he would call. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. When Carmen had come to him mid-morning and told him she’d called, asking if she could come over to speak with him, he’d barely been able to contain his pleasure. He told his assistant that Olivia was welcome to stop by whenever she wanted and left it to her to find an appropriate window in his schedule.

“So did I. It's just that I...

The door opened and in walked Carmen. “You have 45 seconds, sir.”

Olivia looked from Carmen to Rafael. “I.. uh…”

“I have to deliver a luncheon speech at the Governors’ Conference today. I'm sorry.”

“No, no, that's fine. I just stopped by to–”

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Dinner?” Her gaze flicked to Carmen, who was gathering up the briefing books from Rafael’s desk and putting them into his briefcase. But the aide seemed not to be paying them any attention as she went about her task.

“Casual. In the Residence. Without the United Nations. My daughter'll be with us, so it may seem like the United Nations.”

“Oh, well I’d love to meet Gabriella, but...”

“I’m sure she’d love to meet you too. You should bring Noah.”

“Oh, he’d love that but, I have some concerns that—"

“Concerns?”

“Yes. Not many. A few. One. I have one concern.”

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with one of us being the President”

She laughed despite herself. “You like to make jokes about this, but–”

“I am not mocking you, honestly. I'm just a guy asking a girl over for a meal.”

Suddenly a loud noise, like the sound of a jackhammer against cement, came from somewhere outside -- growing louder and closer --

“W- what's that?”

“That’s my ride.”

Olivia watched as Marine One, the President’s helicopter, flew into view through of the windows of the Oval Office. Carmen, who had rushed out to get her coat, returned to help Rafael on with his.

“William Dodds has serious concerns about my exploring a social, you know…” she searched for the word, “…scenario, with the President of the United States.”

“Yeah, well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound that great to me either. Have dinner with Gabby and me. You _and_ Noah. It's spaghetti night – I mean, how presidential can that be?”

“I…”

“Seven-thirty?”

Olivia found herself nodding, in-spite of her possibly better judgement, but before she could say anything else, Rafael was gone, rushing across the lawn to Marine One. And she was left standing alone in the middle of the Oval Office musing that Rafael Barba could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia and Noah join Rafael and Gabriella for spaghetti night at the White House

_The White House Residence,  
Washington D.C  
Saturday, November 23, 2019 – 7.30pm_

Olivia ensured that she and Noah arrived at the White House a few minutes early, conscious that her son would want to stop and look at everything on their walk through the building. In fact, she had to apologise to the guard who escorted them to the Residence several times because Noah had stopped to point something out. Fortunately, the young man had been understanding and smiled at Noah’s enthusiasm.

They were shown through to the main hallway of the Residence and told that the President would be with them shortly. Olivia held tightly to Noah’s hand as they waited, worried that if she didn’t, he would be touching everything in sight.

The young boy pulled at his collar. Olivia had made him wear a tie and he was uncomfortable.

“Noah, stop fidgeting with your tie.”

“But it’s too tight Momma.”

Olivia bent down and began to fix his tie where he had pulled it askew. “Noah,” she explained gently, “we talked about this at home. You’re going to meet the President tonight; you have to look smart.”

She’d heard nothing but objections since she’d first laid out Noah’s outfit that morning. He hated formal clothing and while she couldn’t blame him – it was restrictive enough for adults, let alone children – she had explained that tonight was an important dinner with important people and for that, he had to dress up. Besides, she’d told him, the President always wore a tie.

The young boy huffed and tried to pull away from his mother, but any further protests were silenced by the arrival of Gabriella Barba.

“Hi. Are you Ms Benson?”

Olivia straightened and turned to the young girl with a smile. “Call me Olivia.”

“Hi, Gabby Barba.” She held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Olivia shook her hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you too. “

She was impressed with the girl’s poise and formality. Although she supposed she would be well practised, given the number of statesmen, ambassadors and dignitaries she had undoubtedly been presented to during her father’s tenure at the White House. Gabriella had clearly grown somewhat accustomed to the public-facing part of her life.

“This is my son, Noah.”

Gabriella extended her hand to him too. “Hi Noah.”

“Hi.” Noah, not as practised in these situations, reached out with the wrong hand. Thankfully, the teenager shook it anyway and didn’t mention it.

Gabriella turned to Olivia. “So, my dad told me to tell you that he’s on the phone with his dentist and that I should behave myself and entertain you both until he gets here.”

“Your father’s on the phone with his dentist?” Olivia asked, surprised.

“No,” smiled Gabriella. “He told me to _tell_ you he’s on the phone with his dentist. He wants you to think he’s a regular guy.”

Olivia laughed. “Oh, right. So, who is actually he on the phone with?”

“The Prime Minister of Israel.”

“Oh. They're probably not discussing his teeth.”

Gabriella giggled. “Ewww, I hope not. No, y’know they're discussing an abbreviation I can never remember.”

“Erm, C-STAD?” She wasn’t normally well-versed in the goings on in the military, but the installation of the weapons system had been in the news recently and since meeting Rafael, Olivia had found herself taking much more of an interest in the political news.

“Yeah.”

“Capricorn Surface-To-Air Defence.”

“Right.”

“What’s C-SAD, Momma?”

“C-STAD, sweet boy” Olivia corrected, emphasising the ‘t’, but was saved from having to expand on her answer by the arrival of Rafael.

“Okay, let spaghetti night begin,” he announced as he walked through the door. He looked at Olivia. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“And this must be Noah.” He bent down so they were eye level. “I’m excited to meet you – your mom’s told me a lot about you.”

Noah stared at him for a moment.

“Can you say hi, Noah,” Olivia prompted.

Noah opened his mouth but the words that came out of it were not what any of the people present were expecting.

“You’re not wearing a tie,” he said in an accusatory tone, pointing at Rafael. “Momma, you said he would be wearing a tie!”

“Noah!”

The boy looked confused. “What?”

She looked at Rafael. “I am so sorry! Noah had issues with his outfit and, in an attempt to make life easier, I might have mentioned that he needed to wear the tie because… well, because I assumed you would be.”

“Ah, I see. I did say this was casual though,” he reminded her.

“But it’s also the White House.”

“I can go and put on a tie if it will help?”

Gabriella scoffed. “You’ll get spaghetti on it, Dad. You always do.” She turned to Olivia and Noah. “He leans over the table and the end dips in the sauce.”

“That happened once,” Rafael protested.

“Yeah, sure it did.”

Noah seized the opportunity and looked up at his mom. “Maybe I should take mine off too,” he suggested. “So it doesn’t end up in the spaghetti, because then you’ll have to wash it and...”

Rafael chuckled at Noah’s bargaining skills. “Got yourself a future lawyer there, Olivia.”

“Tell me about it. The negotiations he subjects me too every day could probably give you a run for your money.” She bent down and unknotted the boy’s tie, before putting it in her purse.

Noah unfastened his top button and breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief to be free of the offending garment.

“Shall we make our way to the dining room,” Rafael suggested.

“Yes,” agreed Gabriella without hesitation. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” her father retorted.

“So, is everything all right with your teeth?” Olivia asked Rafael as Gabriella led the way down the hall.

“My teeth?”

“The dentist,” she reminded him.

“Oh, right. I've got a small cavity in my upper bicuspid region.”

“You've got a short-range weapons system outside Tel Aviv.”

Gabriella looked back at her dad, a guilty expression on her face.

“I think somebody told on me.”

“Well, I–”

He put his arm around his daughter and pulled her into a playful headlock, ruffling her hair.

“Dad!” she shrieked. “Stop!”

He let her go and clapped his arm around her shoulder as they made their way into the dining room.

* * *

_Suburban Street,  
Chevy Chase, MD_  
_Saturday, November 23, 2019 – 8.05pm_

While the Barbas and Bensons tucked into their spaghetti – followed by generous helpings of ice cream for dessert – Peter Stone was hosting a cocktail party which doubled as a fat-cat fundraiser for the Republican party. He was holding court with half a dozen political allies, each of whom had a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other, as they discussed the electoral landscape.

“You’re over-thinking this,” he told them. “Voters aren’t interested in how to achieve economic growth. They don't want to hear our plans to strengthen foreign policy.”

“So, it comes down to character,” one of the staffers surmised.

“The press like him, Senator,” added another. “The networks, the newspapers, they're–”

“Reporters like him,” Stone corrected. “Networks and newspapers like ratings and circulation. For all the bitching we do about liberal bias in the press when it comes down to a character debate...”

“The press is an unwitting accomplice.”

A fourth staffer interjected, “But, Pete, the character debate didn't work out for us.”

“Because it couldn't,” Stone reminded him. “Our polling told us that attacking his character less than a year after he'd lost his wife was gonna be a turn-off and was gonna make people feel sorry for him. We couldn't run the campaign we wanted because the opponent was a widower.”

“He's still a widower, Pete. Time's passed, but–”

Stone chuckled. “You'll have to forgive my friend. He's been on a hunting trip and cut off from the world.”

The staffer looked around. “Why? What's going on?”

Every other occupant in the room fished out their phones, opened a social media account and turned the screens towards him.

“The President’s got a girlfriend,” Stone told him, his lips curling into a sly smile.

* * *

_The White House Residence,  
Washington D.C  
Saturday, November 23, 2019 – 9.00pm_

Spaghetti night had gone well, from the perspective of both adults. Olivia was happy to see that Noah seemed to like Rafael. He’d clearly listened to her at the State Dinner because he asked her son all about school, his dance lessons, and his love of Lego, while shying away from the subject of baseball.

Olivia and Gabriella had hit it off pretty well too – the girl didn’t seem to hold it against Olivia that she’d sold her out to Rafael earlier in the evening. She had seemed genuinely interested when she’d asked about how she was finding the move to D.C. and starting a new job. Olivia gave her the cliff-notes version, not sure how much Rafael would want her to know about the work JHF did.

When something Olivia said caused Gabriella to realise she and Fin were acquainted, the girl had asked her how she knew _‘Aunt Rita’s boyfriend’_ and Olivia laughed at the description. She couldn’t see Fin enjoying being referred to as a ‘boy’.

The conversation then turned to music and Olivia had discovered that Gabriella shared her father’s passion for theatre. This in turn brought the discussion back to Noah’s dance classes and looking for a new dance program to enrol him in.

The conversations and laughter had flowed well over dinner, and once it was concluded, Rafael and Gabriella gave Olivia and Noah a tour of the White House, explaining that they’d get to see more than the tourists who went on the regular tour.

Some of the places in the West Wing, like the Oval Office, Olivia had seen before on her previous two visits, but it was fun to watch Noah’s eyes go wide as they entered the infamous room. He may only have been six, but he knew this was an important place. Rafael let Noah sit at his desk and Olivia snapped a few photos. They also visited the press briefing room (Rafael had ensured all press would be out of the building before Olivia and Noah arrived), the Roosevelt Room and the Mural Room.

Gabriella had then taken them on a tour of her favourite places which was much more suited to Noah. They had each taken a turn on the bowling alley – Gabriella beating them all by getting a strike – before Noah had stood wide-eyed in the movie theatre.

“Woah!”

“It’s great for sleepovers. My friends love it,” Gabriella told him. “The kitchen makes us popcorn – whatever flavour we want – and there’s always lots of candy too.”

Noah’s eyes widened even more when she told him they often requested movies from the production companies before they were released in the public theatres.

“Does that mean you can get the new Star Wars?” he asked.

Gabriella shrugged. “Maybe, in a couple of weeks, yeah.”

“Cool.”

Rafael noticed the look on Noah’s face and made a mental note to have Carmen contact the distributors to arrange a screening and invite Olivia and Noah.

They returned to the residence and Gabriella suggested they play a game of Scrabble. Olivia teamed up with Noah, while Rafael and Gabriella played on separate teams, but they didn’t get ten minutes into the game before Noah had passed out from exhaustion.

Unsurprisingly, Rafael won, throwing out words like ‘ _quixotic’_ and ‘ _flapjack’_ on double and triple word scores, respectively. As Gabriella was double checking his maths on the score sheet, Olivia asked her about school. “Your dad says you’re studying the Constitutional Convention.”

“Yeah, she’s not having any fun though,” Rafael said.

“Dad!”

“You’re not having any fun?”

“This is a nightmare,” Gabriella declared. “This is a Social Studies nightmare.”

“Well, they’re doing a mock congress,” Rafael explained when it because clear his daughter wasn’t going to, “and each student takes on the role of one of the original delegates and they debate the amendments. What’s not fun about that?”

With a sigh, Gabriella stood. “Goodnight Dad.”

“Goodnight, _estrellita_.”

Gabriella gave her dad a quick hug before turning to Olivia. “It was nice meeting you Ms–”

“Olivia,” she corrected.

The teenager smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Olivia... and Noah.”

“Thank you, it was nice meeting you too. And I’m sure Noah would say the same.”

“Goodnight.”

“ _Dulces sueños, mija. Te amo_ ,” he called after her.

“ _Yo también te amo, Papi_ ” she called back.

Olivia watched Gabriella go and then told Rafael, “She’s wonderful.”

“She’s her mother,” he replied.

“She’s you.”

Their gazes locked and Rafael saw nothing but honesty and admiration in her deep, brown eyes. In that moment, he felt like spilling his entire heart out to her.

Not wanting to scare her away, he tore his gaze away, putting his remaining scrabble tiles back in the box. “Noah’s a credit to you too.”

“Thanks.” She looked over at her son, curled up on the sofa, covered in a blanket Rafael had retrieved for him when he noticed he’d fallen asleep. “He didn’t have the easiest start in life, but he’s doing well now.”

“Oh?”

Olivia realised then that Rafael didn’t know about the circumstances surrounding Noah’s birth or how he had come to live with her.

“Noah’s adopted,” she told him, looking back at him. “He was abandoned as a newborn outside the facility that I worked in and spent the first six months of his life in various foster homes.”

“They never found his biological parents?”

“His mom, but she had passed away. There was no father listed on the birth certificate.”

“Oh, the poor boy. I.. I didn’t know.”

“I wondered if Fin or Rita might have told you. I don’t go around advertising the fact. He’s mine now, y’know and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded supportively. She was his mother now, in every way that mattered. There was no need to make a distinction.

“But when I think about how much he went through in his early life. If you’re looking for another area of government to overhaul, you might start with the foster care system in this country,” she told him. 

“What happened to him?”

“He ended up in hospital because of a viral infection that his first set of foster parents either didn’t notice or chose to ignore. After that he went to another three foster homes that didn’t work out for one reason or another.

“I followed his case, went to all his hearings… I was the one who found him. I couldn’t rest until I knew he was settled. After his last foster placement fell through – the father relapsed into drink and the mother filed for legal separation – the judge said I’d been the only person to take a consistent interest in his welfare and offered to place him in my care for a year. After which, I’d then have the option to adopt him.

“He’d only been with me for a few months when he ended up in hospital with his asthma and they found healed rib fractures on his x-rays. And he had verbal delay – he didn’t say his first word until he was almost twenty months. Goodness knows what was done to him in those places…” Olivia blinked, trying to hold back the tears she could feel pricking at her eyes.

Rafael noticed them glistening though and reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry. This is clearly painful for you. I shouldn’t have asked. You need to focus on how far he’s come, how well he’s doing now. I mean, he’s clearly got over the verbal delay thing.”

The boy had talked non-stop throughout their meal, peppering Rafael with questions about being President. Olivia smiled and Rafael gave her a moment to collect herself. “How about we continue the tour?”

She glanced at Noah. “But…”

“We’re not going far,” he assured, “and there’s a Secret Service agent right outside the door. I’m sure he’ll step in and keep an eye on him.”

Olivia nodded her agreement and, after Rafael had arranged for the Secret Service agent to watch Noah, she followed him down the hall to the ‘museum’ area of the White House – the parts seen by visitors on the official tours. As they ambled down the wide hallway, Rafael pointed out various room and objects, but he wasn’t a tour guide that was particularly big on details.

“I think…” Rafael said, looking around to get his bearings before slipping through a door. “Yeah, this is the Dish Room.”

Olivia laughed as she followed him into a room full of red-velvet-lined cabinets, packed with gorgeous place settings. “It’s not the Dish Room.”

“Yeah it is.” He waved his hand to indicate the contents. “It’s the room with all the dishes in.”

“It’s the China Room,” she corrected, approaching one of the cabinets.

“Well, I’m more of a West Wing President,” he told her. “If you’re curious about the mansion, I’m sure there’s probably a book that you can get.”

She laughed again. “There are about seven-thousand. I’ll get one for you.”

Rafael watched as she slowly walked around the room, looking at the display cases. As she neared one of the windows and stepped toward the cabinet there, she took a step that draped her in shaft of incredibly flattering moonlight. Rafael found he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Olivia was studying the place settings in one particular cabinet, when she suddenly became hyper-aware of Rafael’s presence, of the dimmed light, of the silence, of the fact that they were alone. She could feel his eyes on her and tried to pretend she couldn't.

But the pull was too strong. She turned to look at him and when she met his eyes the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach before the State Dinner, returned with a vengeance.

She smiled shyly at him, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Olivia.”

Her name was a whisper on his lips and as he approached, she tore her eyes from his. The piece of hair she’d just tucked away falling across her face again as she searched desperately for something to say to un-charge the atmosphere between them.

“Mr President, have you ever noticed…” she swallowed nervously as he reached her side, “how similar the Van Buren flatware is to the Buchanan flatware.”

But Rafael ignored her question, countering with one of his own. “Do you think there will ever come a time when you can stand in a room with me and not think of me as the President?”

“This isn’t a state of mind,” she reminded him, William Dodds’ words and her own professionalism swirling round her head. “You _are_ the President, and when I’m in a room with you – oval or any other shape – I’m always gonna be a lobbyist and you’re always gonna be the President.”

He dismissed what Olivia thought was a perfectly reasonable reality check with his next sentence. “I have news for you, Olivia: as a lobbyist, you’d never be alone in a room with the President.”

Her breath caught as his hand reached up and caressed her cheek. “Do you think this is a good idea?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “The press will…”

Her voice tapered off as his fingers found her hairline and pushed her hair out of her face. “I don’t care about the press. I have no intention of discussing this with them. This is between us.”

He cupped her cheek and, slowly – so she had chance to back away if she really wanted to – he closed the gap between them.

Their lips barely made contact when there was a voice from the doorway. “Mr President?”

Interrupted by the arrival of Agent Cooper, they broke apart, Olivia looking anywhere other than the direction of the Secret Service agent.

“We have a secure call from the Sit-Room.”

Rafael sighed. He knew what that meant – his job was calling. He gave Olivia an apologetic smile. “Excuse me.”

Olivia watched as he disappeared into an adjoining room and sensing something had happened, she stepped forward to follow him, to offer whatever support she could.

But Agent Cooper couldn’t allow that. He stepped in front of her blocking her path. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.”

She let her attention be drawn by the decorated plates lining the walls, grateful for something to distract her from what had just transpired between her and Rafael.

Rafael was back a few moments later, shoulders slumped and a weary look on his face. “I’m sorry, we’re going to have to cut our evening short. The Libyans have just bombed C-STAD. I’ll try to call you in the morning.” He turned to Agent Cooper. “Coop, would you please show Ms Benson back to the residence to pick up her son and then out to her car?”

Agent Cooper nodded. “Yes sir.”

* * *

_Amanda’s Apartment  
Georgetown, Washington D.C.  
Sunday, November 24, 2019 – 6.30am_

When they arrived home, Amanda and Jesse were both asleep so, after putting Noah in his bed, Olivia changed into something more comfortable than the suit she’d worn to the White House and settled in front of the TV. She switched on the news to see what other information she could find out about what had happened in the Middle East.

It was still breaking news so there wasn’t much to go on – mainly political and military commentators discussing what options the President had at his disposal for retaliation – and before long, Olivia dozed off.

She woke to the sound of Amanda in the kitchen, trying – and failing – to be quiet as she prepared a quick breakfast before going to work.

“Morning.”

“Shit. I was trying not to wake you.”

Olivia waved her off as she stood and padded to the kitchen.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, must have dozed off.” She rolled her neck; the couch was nowhere for anyone over the age of twenty to sleep. “I’m gonna pay for it later,” she said, already able to feel the stiffness in her muscles.

“Did you have a good night?” Amanda asked, a knowing look on her face.

Olivia was distracted by the television.

“Liv?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you had a good night last night.”

“Yeah, it was very… pleasant.”

“Pleasant? That’s it.”

“That’s more than enough when you’ve got to be out of the door…” she looked at the clock, “… five minutes ago.”

Amanda handed her a freshly made cup of coffee. “Are you sure you’re still okay to have Jesse today?”

“Well it’s a bit late if I’m not, isn’t it? Seriously, it’s fine. You’ve pitched in with Noah this week, so it’s only fair. We’ll probably have a bit of a lazy morning and then head to the park for a bit. You off at three?”

Amanda secured the lid on her travel mug. “Yeah, so I’ll probably be at your new place by three thirty so we can make a start on those boxes and you can tell me all the juicy details from last night.”

The landlord had called two days ago to tell Olivia her apartment was finally ready. The movers – who had been on standby waiting for her ‘go’ order – had transported the heavy duty furniture yesterday from her temporary storage facility, so she and Amanda had made a plan to tackle some of the boxes today.

“Great. See you then!”

Amanda picked up her piece of toast from the counter and shoved it in her mouth as she left, calling a mumbled ‘goodbye’ as she went.

Olivia busied herself making breakfast for herself and the kids, one eye and ear on the news channel. The press conference finally came around eight-thirty and with Noah and Jesse settled at the table munching away on their pancakes, Olivia turned her attention to it.

She listened as Pippa gave a quick summary of the events last night, before Rafael took to the podium to answer questions, flanked by Pentagon staff. She spotted Rita and Pippa stood to the side.

“Is there anything at all about the C-STAD weapons system that could have been mistaken by Libyan Intelligence as offensive rather than defensive?” asks a reporter.

“No. We did everything but show them the blueprints. The hardware was sitting in an airplane hangar for a month. They didn't hit it until the American personnel got there.” He pointed at another member of the Press Corps. “Leslie?”

“Sir, there's an unconfirmed report that you were with Olivia Benson when you learned of the attack. Can you comment?”

Olivia’s ears pricked up, waiting for his answer.

“Yes, we had just finished dinner.”

She saw Rita whisper something in Pippa’s ear and then the press secretary called out, “Last question.”

Rafael threw her a quick questioning glance before his attention was pulled back to the room by a reporter calling out.

“Sir, would you care to comment on the status of your relationship?”

“We don’t have a relationship. We just had dinner. Thank you”

Olivia didn’t know how to feel about that. Her head knew that was the sensible thing to say – he didn’t need the press conference derailed by questions about her. And what he said wasn’t technically incorrect – there had been no discussions or declarations – but hearing it out loud made her wonder.

Another reporter called out, “Can you tell us if she spent the night at the White House or if–”

Rafael, who had been stepping down from the podium, turned back to the room, a serious expression on his face. “A lot of people were killed last night, let’s try to keep our eye on the ball, okay?”

He left the room to sounds of reporters shouting, still clamouring to get their questions answered.

* * *

_Rafael’s Private Office,_  
The White House  
Sunday, November 24, 2019 – 6.07pm

Rafael had had one hell of a day. He hated this part of his job. In contrast to some of his staffers, he felt it was the least Presidential thing he did. People had died because of his decisions today. People who had no part in what had happened.

Intelligence had told them that Libyan Intelligence had been the ones who ordered the bombing of C-STAD, so the advice was to target their headquarters in retaliation. They had done just that, levelling the building while the night shift was on duty. Janitors, cleaners, custodians, just going about their jobs. None of whom, he was sure, had given the order to attack American military personnel.

Rita had agreed with the Pentagon’s assessments and assured him it was a ‘proportional response’, but he didn’t really understand what that meant. What exactly was the virtue of a proportional response? People still died and there would be more attacks on Americans in the future. It was a never-ending cycle.

Then there had been the press briefing. Dealing with reporters was never the highlight of his day, but it was even worse when he was functioning on a less than stellar amount of sleep. With the exception of a few, most of the reporters seemed more concerned with what he had been doing in the moments before he learned of the attack and who he had been doing it with. It didn’t seem to matter to them that people had lost their lives.

He hadn’t been particularly happy with his staff in that moment either. Rita was trying to handle him. When the questions about Olivia had come, she had shut down the press conference and had Pippa apologising to him for not prepping him in advance. He didn’t need preparing as he had no plans to engage in any discussion apart from confirming the report they had been together. He’d rather not have even done that, but he wouldn’t lie while standing in front of the Presidential seal.

He had been fielding calls from Congress and the Senate for the rest of day and had not managed to find a spare moment to call Olivia. And he desperately wanted to talk to her. He felt awful leaving their evening where they had. The briefest of kisses and then, nothing. Especially when he knew she had concerns about them developing a relationship.

He was about to pick up the phone and call her when Carisi called up, telling him the Speaker was about to leave. He’d known the President had wanted to talk to him and wanted to know what he should do.

“Tell the speaker to wait,” Rafael told him. “I want to talk to him. No, I'll be right down.”

He hung up and turned his attention to the television. C-Span was running a report on the Congressional reaction to the events of the day and it was Peter Stone’s turn to be featured. Again. Rafael was sure they’d played this soundbite from earlier in the evening several times during the course of the day.

“…Last night, the price of his liberal programs was raised to include the blood of twenty-two American soldiers,” Stone crowed on the steps of the House. “Now, Mr. Barba’s read a lot of books, but you don’t need a Yale degree to see this one coming' a mile down the road.”

“I went to Harvard you _imbécil,_ ” Rafael corrected. “ _¡tienes un maje por cerebro!_ ”

“The fact that our Commander-in-Chief has not served one day in uniform–”

Rafael had heard enough. He clicked the TV off and picked up a pen. He scribbled a note that said, ‘Call Olivia’, and then slipped it into his pocket to remind him to call her once he’d spoken to the Speaker.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story earns its M rating, folks!

_Olivia’s Apartment,  
Georgetown, D.C_   
_Sunday, November 24, 2019 – 8.30pm_

Olivia and Amanda were making good progress on the boxes. They had unpacked the majority of Noah’s room – Olivia had wanted that done first – and he and Jesse were now sprawled out on either end of his bed. They had been pretty good all things considered. Both children had started out with the best of intentions, wanting to help unpack, but it hadn’t taken long for them to become distracted and start playing with a toy they’d found or even playing hide and seek with the empty boxes and cupboards.

But now they were fast asleep, so the adults could focus on getting the rest of the apartment ready. Olivia wasn’t planning on sleeping there tonight, she would take Noah back to Amanda’s for several reasons, the main one being that it had a kitchen which contained all of the required food, utensils and equipment to make him a decent breakfast before sending him to school the next day.

“This box just says ‘miscellaneous’,” Amanda announced as she rounded the corner. She was carrying a carton almost half the size of her. “Is it bedroom miscellaneous or kitchen miscellaneous?”

But Olivia’s mind was elsewhere as she emptied a box of books into the bookcase. Specifically, on the brief kiss she and Rafael had shared the night before and its implications.

“Olivia?”

“Why did I have to kiss him?” she mused aloud.

“You kissed him?”

“Yeah.”

Amanda put the box down and approached her friend. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I kissed him.”

“Where?”

“On the mouth.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “Where in the White House.”

“The Dish Room.”

“The Dish Room?”

“Uh, the China Room.”

“And… then what happened? Come on ’Liv, don’t leave me hanging.”

“Nothing happened. He had to go and attack Libya.”

She scoffed. “It’s always something.”

“Yeah. I’ve got to nip this in the bud. This has catastrophe written all over it.”

“In what language?”

Amanda’s words got Olivia’s attention and when her best friend finally looked at her, she continued, listing Rafael’s attributes.

“Liv, the man is the leader of the free world. He’s brilliant, he’s funny, he’s handsome, he’s an above average dancer. And Noah adores him – he’s not been able to stop talking about him all day. Isn’t it possible our standards are just a tad high?”

Noah was another reason Olivia was reconsidering this whole thing. If she moved forward with this relationship, not only could it affect her professional standing, but it could also harm Noah. The press briefing this morning had served as a stark reminder that this relationship was going to take place in the public domain, whether she and Rafael wanted it to or not. She had a duty to protect her son and not put him in a position where he could be harmed, either emotionally or physically.

The buzzing of her cell phone drew her attention. She threw it a suspicious glance and then ignored it, letting it continue its vibration across the coffee table.

“Answer the phone,” Amanda urged.

Olivia shook her head. “It’s him.”

“Answer the phone.”

“He’s gonna ask me to come over there.”

“That’s okay. I can take Noah home. Just answer the phone.”

“I don’t wanna go over there.”

“Liv, answer the phone or I will.”

Olivia sighed, putting down the book she was holding and reaching for her cell. “All right. But I’m gonna end it on the phone.”

* * *

_Rafael Barba’s Suite,  
The White House_   
_Sunday, November 24, 2019 – 9.00pm_

Olivia took a deep breath as Agent Cooper knocked on the heavy, wooden door to the Presidential Suite. As predicted, it had been Rafael on the phone. He had sounded weary and Olivia hadn’t been able to find in her to deny him when he’d asked her to come over.

So, after helping Amanda get the kids home and in bed, she had driven the two miles to the White House, fighting an internal battle all the way. Her head and heart were at war over the best course of action. Even though she had known him less than a week, she liked Rafael and she couldn’t deny there was something between them. She had never felt anything as strongly as this in the early days of any of her previous relationships. She thought that if she could give herself over to exploring a relationship with him, they could have something really special.

But that was all hypothetical. There was no way of knowing for certain that things would work out. It could crash and burn which, given her past history with men, was more than likely. And it would all play out in the public eye. In the age of social media and instant news, there was no way to avoid that. She would be subjected to scrutiny beyond anything she’d ever faced before and that would impact on Noah. And he had to be her top priority. She had to protect him.

By the time she arrived at the White House she had made up her mind - again. As much as she liked Rafael Barba, and as much as it might hurt to put a stop to this, she had to. For Noah.

She was keen to get it over and done with – to rip off the Band-Aid as quickly as possible – so when he answered his door, she barely gave him a chance to say hello before the words came tumbling out.

“I just came over to tell you why I can’t see you anymore.”

“Come on in.” Rafael glanced at the agent who was still standing there. “Thanks, Coop,” he said with a nod and moved to let Olivia enter, closing the door behind her.

“Look, I know you’ve had a tough day,” she began, not wanting him to think she was being unnecessarily cruel.

“Well, not as tough as some. You want a drink? Can I take your coat?” 

She shook her head, eager to say what she needed to say and get out of there. “Mr President, this isn’t going to work.”

“Sure it will, you just unbutton the top button and–”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“No, I didn’t think it was.” 

She took a deep breath. “I’ve really enjoyed the time that we’ve spent together,” she told him honestly before repeating what she’d said to Amanda earlier. “But this has catastrophe written all over it. Please, Mr President, don’t pursue me outside the political arena.”

“Well, I have no intention of pursuing you inside the political arena and that leaves everything out and that’s unacceptable to me.”

Not quite willing to admit her own insecurities and anxieties, she found herself trying to convince him she was being selfless and only concerned about the health of his Presidency.

“You’re entering an election year, Mr President, and–” 

“The name is Rafael,” he told her, wishing she could see past his office and just see him. Rafael Barba, the man.

“– politics is all about perception. I’m sure your staff will tell you that one of the absolute worst things you can do is to open yourself up to character attacks. And one of the quickest ways to do that is prance around like the Playboy of the Western world.”

“Let’s clear up a couple of things here. Number one, I don’t ‘prance’ and, number two, I have no intention of engaging in a character debate, which I think you already know given what I said last night. So, why don’t you tell me what this is really about, Olivia?”

He moved to one of two couches and as he flopped down onto one of them Olivia saw just how affected he had been by having to do his job today. He looked tired and defeated. His face was pale and there were bags under his eyes, eyes that reflected pain and sadness. His shirt was open at the collar and his sleeves rolled up. His usually perfectly coiffed locks were dishevelled; the result of many a run through with his fingers when he was feeling frustrated.

She felt awful. She could have waited another twenty-four hours. She _should_ have waited. She desperately wanted to hold him, to provide some comfort, but not knowing how he would take that she settled for simply being honest, as he had requested.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she sighed.

He gestured for her to sit on the couch opposite and, reasoning that she was going to be here for a while so they could talk about things, Olivia put down her purse and removed her coat before taking a seat.

“You don’t know how to do what?” Rafael asked.

“Be in a relationship where our every move is going to be scrutinised by congress and reporters and newscasters and any idiot with a social media account. You know this morning’s press conference isn’t going to be the end of this. Peter Stone has got to be drooling over this.”

“Are you attracted to me?”

“I...” His words startled her, and it took her a moment to gather herself. “That’s not the issue here. You might be used to the constant public interest in your life and while I’m not, I’m pretty sure I can handle anything Peter Stone might throw at me, but it’s not just about us. What about Gabby and Noah? How can we put them through all that?”

As she spoke, Olivia’s voice became louder and more impassioned until she was almost shouting. When Rafael noticed the unshed tears in her eyes, he thought he finally understood why she was so reticent to pursue a relationship when she was clearly attracted to him. Of course, it was about Noah. He cursed himself for not seeing it before.

Gabriella had protections afforded by the United States Secret Service and Rafael had set up unprecedented, unbreakable rules about his daughter and the press. He’d had White House reporters transferred for approaching her. He’d done all that because he’d had similar worries to Olivia about his child’s exposure to the press.

He pushed himself off the sofa and moved to the one Olivia was occupying, taking a seat next to her.

“I’m sorry. I should have realised you were worried about how all this would affect Noah.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I should have just been honest with you about what I was feeling.”

“It’s not too late,” he suggested, moving his hand to cover hers where they lay in her lap.

“I am attracted to you,” she admitted, fighting the blush that threatened to creep onto her cheeks. “But Noah has to be my top priority and, as much as I might want to, I can’t pretend that what happens between us won’t affect him.”

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“If you didn’t have Noah, would you want to be with me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation.

“Okay, what about if you did have Noah, but I wasn’t subject to this kind of scrutiny. If I wasn’t President and we’d met in some bar or diner back in New York – oh, Junior’s! Yeah, if we’d met in Junior’s and shared a slice of that cheesecake that I hear is _really quite something_ …” Olivia laughed and with a squeeze of her hand, Rafael continued. “Would you want to be with me then?”

Again, her response was instant “Yes.”

“Okay, so the only obstacle to us being together is your concern about the press exposure and the possible repercussions for Noah?”

She nodded. “But it’s a pretty big obstacle. He’s the most important thing in my life and I can’t just ignore what could happen.”

“And I’m not asking you to. I’m suggesting we find a way to deal with it. Together.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“It seems to me you have a good idea of what to expect. The more time we spend together, the more reporters and photographers are going to follow you everywhere. They’re gonna take your picture every day, they’re going to ask you questions every day. You can answer them or not, that’s entirely up to you. Now, sometimes Noah will be with you, that’s unavoidable, but I will have Pippa make it very clear to every member of the press room that retaining their White House credentials is subject to them and anyone else from their news outlet treating Noah in the same way they would treat Gabby. They stay away and they print nothing – not even his name – without express permission from this administration.”

“What about the public? I mean, I can talk to Noah, explain that some people might say mean things about me or you, but there’s a lot of crazies out there and I need him to be safe. Above all else, I _need_ him to be safe.”

Rafael lay a hand on her back. “I know. I promise you; I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

Olivia’s heart melted a little at hearing Rafael pledge to protect her son and sincerity and conviction with which he said it, helped to relieve some of her fears and anxieties.

“If you want to continue this…” Rafael waved a hand back and forth between them. “I can speak to the Secret Service, see if we can figure something out.”

“I don’t know how I’d feel about having someone follow me around 24/7, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Yeah, it’s–” His eyes found hers. “Wait, does that mean you _do_ want us to spend more time together?”

She smiled at him. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

As they sat there, their eyes locked for a few moments, Olivia once again felt that inexplicable pull between them. She leaned towards him and slowly brought her lips to his, placing a light, tender kiss on them.

Rafael raised his hand to her cheek, his fingers moving along her jaw in the faintest of caresses as he kissed her back. Gentle and slow soon gave way to deeply passionate as his tongue ran along her lips. She parted them eagerly, allowing him entrance and their kiss intensified further.

He eased her back to lay along the couch, positioning himself over her. He could feel Olivia lacing her fingers into his hair, pressing into his scalp, urging him on. His hands trailed over the soft cashmere of her jumper, travelling lower until he reached the hem at the bottom. The garment had ridden up slightly and his fingers teased the bare skin he found there. She moaned in response and her hips bucked against his.

He hissed at the contact and it brought him back to the moment. He could so easily get lost in this woman, but he couldn’t. This was too important to him. She was too important to him.

“Olivia,” he breathed between kisses. “I want this… God knows I want this but maybe… maybe we should… slow down.” He pushed himself off her and sat at the other end of the couch and tried to calm his body’s reactions to her. “I don’t want to push you into something you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with.”

“It’s okay, I–” Olivia tried to tell him, but Rafael was so focused on finishing his explanation that her words didn’t register.

“I mean, you can’t even call me by my first name,” he pointed out, “which I understand, but I think that, until you can do that, we should refrain from… anything else.”

She sidled up to him and lay her hand on his knee. “May I use your bathroom, for a moment please?” she asked, standing.

“Of course.” Rafael stood too and pointed to the far corner of the room. “It’s right through there, right behind you.”

“I just want to freshen up,” she explained as she picked up her purse and headed in the direction he had pointed.

“Take your time,” Rafael called after her, “I’ll fix us both a drink and when you come back, we’ll sit on the couch and I’ll explain to you my plan.”

“You’ve got a plan? Don’t make me wait, you’re on a roll,” Olivia called back from the bathroom. She took a brief moment to look around. As well as the toilet, there was a vanity with a double sink against one wall, with a large ornate mirror hanging above it, and a large jacuzzi bath against another. There was an open doorway near the entrance, which from the rows of shirts she could see hanging inside, she assumed lead to a walk-in closet or dressing room.

Bracing her hands on the vanity, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, as Rafael continued talking in the other room about how he wanted her to feel comfortable with him. She had been more than comfortable with where the evening had seemed to be heading just a moment ago; her flushed face and tousled hair was proof enough of that.

As she examined her face in the mirror, her eyes were drawn to the entrance to the closet she’d passed on her way in and an idea began to form. She retrieved her phone from her purse and shot a quick text to Amanda before executing her plan to show Rafael Barba just how comfortable she was.

* * *

While Olivia was in the bathroom, Rafael had picked up her coat and draped it over the high back chair in the corner of the room before beginning to explain the plan he had been formulating in his head before they’d kissed and he’d lost all sense of thought and reason.

“Last night when we were looking at the different place settings in the dish room, I realised that those place settings were all provided by the First Ladies. And I'll bet none of those First Ladies were nervous about spending time alone with their President husbands. And you know why?”

“No, but I'm sure you'll explain it to me,” Olivia called from the bathroom.

“I will. Because they weren't presidents when they met them. That’s not the case with us.”

“Ahhhhh.”

“You see what I’m getting at?”

“I think so, yeah. Go on.”

“Okay. You enjoy spending time with me but there are still aspects that you find uncomfortable because you only know me as the President.” While speaking he walked over to the mini bar and pours them both a large measure of scotch. “But it's not always going to be that way, and the reason I know that is because there have been moments – both last night and tonight – when you were with me and not the President, and I know what a big step that was for you. So, here’s my plan. We take it slow; casual dinners here, maybe a movie or two, walks around the grounds, that sort of thing. We’ll get to know each other properly, away from the prying eyes of the media and then, when you’re comfortable, we can think about exploring the physical side of our relationship.”

Holding their drinks, Rafael turned towards the bathroom door and froze. Olivia had returned to the room, wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else. His eyes raked over her. If he’d thought she was beautiful before, that was nothing compared to the sight in front of him now. She was breath-taking, the white fabric resting against her skin. She’d left the first few buttons open, teasing at what lay underneath and the hem fell at the top of her thighs, her long legs on display. She’d taken the clip out of her hair and it now fell in soft waves around her face.

He swallowed thickly. “Perhaps I didn’t properly explain the fundamentals of the slow down plan.”

“No, you explained it great,” she assured him, taking a step towards him. “I just don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She took another step forward.

“Are you nervous?”

“No.” And another step closer.

“Good. My nervousness exists on several levels. Number one – and this is in no particular order – I haven't done this in a pretty long time. Number two: uh, any… expectations that you might have, due to the fact that I'm, you know...”

“… the most powerful man in the world?” She was in front of him now and took the drinks he was still holding out of his hands and set them down on the table.

“Exactly. Thank you. I think it’s important you remember that’s a political distinction – it comes with the office. I mean, if Eisenhower were here instead of me, well he’d be dead by now and number three...”

He trailed off as her hands found his chest and slid up to his shoulders. “Rafa.”

Hearing his name – and a shortened version of it at that – fall from her lips was all the encouragement he needed. His hands found her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck as their lips met for the second time that night.

Their kiss began as a slow and sensual caress but when Olivia’s tongue teased its way into his mouth, gentle and demanding, Rafael couldn’t stop the moan that escaped. His fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt as the kiss deepened, pulling her against him. In those moments time seemed to stop. Nothing existed but her soft lips and the erotic dance of their tongues. He was fairly certain that kissing Olivia Benson was going to become his new favourite pastime.

When he finally eased out of the kiss, nibbling gently on her lower lip as he did, she groaned softly in protest, but he had other plans. He moved his lips to her jaw and traced a slow path to her neck. She gasped as his tongue swept over her pulse point, so Rafael took his time and savoured the taste of her skin, nipping and sucking lightly.

Olivia slid her hands across his broad shoulders and down his back as he peppered her skin with kisses. When she reached the waistband of his trousers, she gripped his shirt and tugged it loose. She dodged his continued attempts to tease her neck and slid her hands up his torso toying with the buttons on this shirt. Her fingers deftly unfastened button after button until it fell open allowing her a glimpse at his chest. She ran her hands under the fabric, closing her eyes to savour the feel of his bare skin, her fingers toying with the sparse hair. His muscles flexed beneath her touch and a shiver ran through his body as she reached his shoulders.

Rafael allowed the garment to fall to the floor and, pressing his lips to hers in a feverous kiss, walked them backwards towards the bed. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she broke the kiss and sat, pulling him by his belt loops to stand between her legs.

He gazed down at her and carded one of his hands through her hair, tilting her face towards him. “ _Hermosa_ ,” he rasped. “You’re really sure about this?”

She smiled up at him. “I wouldn’t have let it get this far if I wasn’t.”

Rafael let his hand drop from her hair and began toying with the open collar of the shirt she wore. “I have to say, this looks far better on you than it ever did on me,” he whispered as his fingers dipped below the fabric to ghost across the skin of her neck before tracing the edge of the material towards the valley between her breasts.

A soft moan escaped her as his fingers brushed the swell of her breast and Rafael watched her nipples harden and press against the fabric. He quickly dealt with her buttons and let the shirt fall away, leaving her in only her pale pink panties. He leaned over her and gently eased her back to lie on the bed. He trailed moist kisses along her collarbone and across her chest, painting random patterns with his tongue. His fingers feathered over her ribs, making her shiver.

Olivia closed her eyes, giving herself up to the pleasure his hands and mouth provided. Desire shot along her nerves like lightning when his mouth closed around one of her nipples, one of his hands teasing the other. He drove her close to madness doing nothing but toying with her breasts, kissing, nipping, kneading, or flicking a rosy tip with a fingernail. His concerns about not having done this in a while were definitely unwarranted. She was ready to explode, her entire being was filled with more lust and longing than she thought possible and he hadn't even touched her below the waist.

He moved down her body, his tongue following in the wake of his fingers. She was on fire, her skin burning with the need to be touched, her insides throbbing in anticipation. Sinking to his knees beside the bed, he teased her mercilessly, letting his breath feather over her. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and peeled them off, nipping at the inside of her thighs. He let his tongue flick against her folds, barely touching her. She tried to move against his face, to get closer, to find the stimulation she craved, but he could not be swayed, keeping a tight hold on her hips. And then his tongue finally found its way between her swollen lips, nudging against her sensitive nub.

A strangled cry escaped her as one of his fingers slowly entered her, closely followed by a second. She bucked against him, so close to the edge. It would only take a little more – a gentle swipe of his tongue or a slight curling of his long digits – to send her over the edge, but he refused to take her all the way there. He took her right to the precipice, only to back off again. Then he did it again, and again, and again, until she thought she would die from the pleasure. She was gasping for breath, the pounding of her heart drowning out any other sound, her skin glistening with sweat.

Suddenly the world exploded around her as he gave her the final push she needed. Light danced behind her closed lids and she soared on a wave of pleasure for what seemed like an eternity, her body shaking with aftershocks as he gently caressed her with his tongue.

Rafael’s arousal grew at sight of her coming apart at the ministrations of his fingers and tongue. It would be a vision that would be seared into his brain. He wanted to kiss her. He _needed_ to kiss her. He pushed himself up off the floor and climbed onto the mattress.

She shuffled further up the bed and reached out to him, drawing him down to her, eagerly seeking his mouth for a passionate kiss. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him against her heat. She ground against him, whimpering as the bulge in his pants nudged against her clit.

“Rafa,” she moaned, her voice husky with arousal.

He pulled back and her hands found his belt. Together, they tackled his buckle, buttons, and zip, and pushed his trousers and boxers off. Olivia reached for his length, wrapping her hand around it and stroking slowly.

“ _¡Dios!_ ” Rafael hissed at the contact, throwing his head back and arching instinctively into her touch. He’d forgotten how amazing the feel of another person’s hands on him could be.

Her thumb grazed his tip and she felt him twitch as he thrust into her hand. A few more strokes and he was gasping her name.

“Liv! _Mierda_!”

She recognised the strain – the warning – in his voice and released him. She reached a hand to the back of his neck and drew him down towards her or another heated kiss. When she lifted her hips to meet his, he pulled his lips away, resting his forehead against hers.

“Wait… what about… p-protection?” He should have thought of it before, but he was too entranced by her beauty to think of anything but getting to this point. He was fairly sure he didn’t have condoms – he hadn’t had any need – and even though she was a modern, 21st century woman, she hadn’t come here with the intention of seducing him so he couldn’t rely on her being prepared. “I mean I don’t have any, but I’m not above tracking down an agent and asking if they have anything in their wallet.”

She shook her head, laughing at him. “You’d have to get dressed first which, given that pregnancy is no longer a concern, seems like a waste of precious time,” she told him. “I’m clean so, if you are, then…”

“I am,” he assured her. “I just wanted to make sure.”

She kissed him. “And you get bonus points for that. Now, where were we?”

Taking him in hand again, she positioned him at her entrance and he slowly sank into her until he was completely surrounded by her warmth. Resting his weight on his forearms, Rafael brushed a few damp curls out of her face with gentle fingers as he began to move. Their eyes were locked in a tender gaze as they revelled in the overwhelming closeness of each other.

When their desire became too strong to suppress any longer, Rafael wrapped his arms around her and rolled them, so she lay on top of him. His hands dropped to her hips as she sat up and she planted hers on his chest. She rolled her hips, closing her eyes and throwing her head back as he hit that sweet spot deep inside her. Together, they set a languid pace, one that took them on a slow and winding path towards fulfilment.

They let their hands wander, exploring every inch of skin they could reach, pausing frequently to share unhurried kisses, skimming along the edge of bliss only to withdraw again until, finally, they tumbled over the edge together.

She collapsed against his chest and for a few moments, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, catching their breath. Nothing existed in that moment but the two of them sharing the same air and the same heartbeat. It wasn’t until the chill of the room caused a shiver to run through Olivia, that they realised, in their eagerness, they hadn’t even pulled back the covers.

Rafael shifted from underneath her and climbed off the bed. Olivia watched as he padded to the bathroom, appreciating the sight of his bare ass as he walked. She heard the faucet running and when he returned a few moments later, he handed her a washcloth.

She cleaned up as he pulled on his boxers and found an undershirt from one of his drawers. Once dressed, he turned down the comforter and crawled into bed, handing her the shirt she had claimed earlier. She shrugged it on, fastening a few buttons before joining him, curling into his side, and laying her head on his chest.

“Are you staying?” he rumbled quietly, his fingers combing through her hair.

She looked up at him. “If you want me to. Noah’s with Amanda so…”

In the text she had sent her friend earlier, she had implied that she may not make it home and asked if that would be a problem. She took her response of ‘Go girl!’ followed by several suggestive emojis to mean that it would not.

“I’d like you to.”

“Good, because I’m rather comfortable here and don’t really feel like moving.”

He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers tenderly, pulling the comforter up around them. Tightening his arm around her, he felt her sigh contentedly against him and before long they both slipped into a deep, peaceful, sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

_Rafael Barba’s Suite,  
The White House  
Monday, November 25, 2019 – 5.00am_

The ringing of the phone on the bedside table dragged Rafael from sleep, and he reached out feeling for the receiver, almost fumbling it as he did so. Being woken up at ungodly hours was a prerequisite of the job, but even after almost three years it didn’t get any easier.

“Hello?” he croaked, running a hand over his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, put him through.” He reached for the clock to check the time as he waited for the call to be connected. “Sonny, it is five a.m. – what are you? A bat?” He listened for a few moments to what his senior advisor had to say. “Yeah… All right.”

He hung up the phone and turned over, expecting to find Olivia asleep beside him, but frowned when he found her side of the bed empty. He wondered for a moment if he’d dreamt the whole thing, but the rumpled covers and indentation in the pillow assured him he had not. He flicked on the bedside lamp to find Olivia sat on one of the couches, fully dressed and lacing up her boots.

“Olivia?”

She looked up at him and smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He sat up. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, I need to get home to take Noah to school and wanted to leave the building before the press corps got here.”

“I have that same thought every day of my life.”

She chuckled.

“Say, you know Sonny Carisi, don’t you?”

“Only by reputation.” She’d met him briefly at her meeting with Rita and then again when she’d come to thank Rafael for the cheesecake. “He’d probably go nuts if he knew I spent the night.”

Rafael threw back the covers and let his legs dangle over the edge of the bed.

“Well, he’s on his way up.”

“What?!”

Olivia barely had time to process Rafael’s words before there was a knock at the door.

“Come on in, Sonny.”

“Good morning, Mr President,” he greeted. “Hi Olivia.”

“Hi Sonny. I…” she stood and gestured awkwardly to the closet, “I’ll just get my coat, be on my way.”

Rafael smiled and shook his head at her before turning to Carisi. “What’s the situation.”

“They’re camped out at every exit,” he informed his boss.

“Who?” Olivia asked, stepping out of the dressing room carrying her purse and Rafael’s robe – she’d spotted it hanging in there and grabbed it, assuming he wouldn’t want to conduct a meeting with his staff in just his boxers and undershirt. “Who’s camped out?”

“The press.”

She handed the robe off to Rafael before turning back to Carisi. “The press is camped out?”

“You shoulda taken a cab, Olivia.”

“They already know my car?!”

She looked from Carisi to Rafael, the later of whom gave her a sympathetic smile as he donned his robe.

There was another knock at the door and Pippa entered. “Good morning, Mr President. Good morning, Olivia.”

“Hi.”

“I came as soon as Sonny called.”

“Oh, thank God,” Rafael replied as he tightened the belt on his robe, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I think the important thing is not to make it look like we’re panicking,” she told him.

“See, and I think the important thing is actually not to _be_ panicking,” Rafael countered.

Another quick rap on the door announced the arrival of Rita. “Good morning, Mr. President. Good morning, Ms. Benson. I see everyone's getting an early start today.”

“Hello,” Olivia replied, wondering how the Chief of Staff could look so well-groomed and put together despite the ungodly hour.

Rafael walked over to the window, pulling the curtain aside slightly to assess the situation on the ground for himself.

“So,” Carisi asked. “How do we exit Olivia from the building and what do we say to the press at that point?

“We need a diversion,” Pippa suggested.

Olivia’s eyes widened. “A diversion.”

“You understand that by diversion I'm not saying we set fire to the White House,” she explained.

“Oh, why not?” Rafael asked, quickly losing patience with his staff.

“Can I just state very clearly that I can't be party to anything illegal.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “Good for you, Sonny.”

“Say what you want, but it's always the guy in my job that ends up doing eighteen months in Danbury Minimum Security Prison.”

“Well, you can relax, Sonny. We're not creating a diversion.”

Olivia, whose eyes had been flitting to each person in the room as they spoke, trying to keep up with their verbal tennis match, tried to catch up, “No diversion?”

Rafael turned to face her. “We're going to have somebody take you home.”

“Odafin’s over in my office. He’s got the Escalade standing by.”

Rafael regarded her for a moment, impressed with her forward planning.

“I bet you never thought you’d be thankful for that car,” Pippa commented. “What was it you said when he bought it? That it looked like a drug dealer’s with its huge wheels and tinted windows?”

Rita folded her arms. “Yes, well. At least we’ve found a use for it now.”

“Okay, good.” Carisi said. “Now, press statement?”

Rafael turned to Olivia. “You okay with all this?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Reporters, photographers, questions. Answer them, don’t answer them. My choice.”

He smiled at her summary of his little speech from the night before. “Good. The White House has no official position, except to say, ‘No comment’.”

“No comment?” Pippa clarified.

“The White House does not comment on the President’s personal life.”

Carisi shook his head. “We can't just leave it at that, sir.”

“No, you’re right, Sonny, we can’t. Pippa, I forgot – I need you to make it clear to the press that Olivia’s son is off limits. Same rules as with Gabby.”

She nodded. “Of course, sir.” She may not agree with his ‘no comment’ strategy, but she certainly shared his belief that the children should be protected from press scrutiny.

“Sir,” Carisi hedged, “I really think that we ought to-–”

Rafael threw a withering look to Rita, begging her to stop this madness.

“Thank you very much, Mr President.” She tapped both her colleagues on the shoulder. “Come, friends, let us away.”

She opened the door and allowed Pippa and Carisi to leave, before turning back to Olivia and Rafael. “Olivia, Odafin will be in my office. Take your time.”

She nodded, smiling gratefully at her. “Thanks Rita.”

Rita fixed Rafael with a look that told him he’d be hearing about this later. “Mr President, I will see you shortly.”

A few seconds later, she was gone, and the two of them were finally alone again.

“I’m sorry about this,” he told her taking her hand.

When he lifted it to his mouth and placed a kiss on it, Olivia was transported back to the evening of the State Dinner and the excitement and nervousness she’d felt as she stood in that hallway at the end of the night. She marvelled at how much things had changed in the short time since then. There was still excitement, as there often was at the beginning of a new relationship, but the nervousness had abated. Yes, he was the President, but at the end of the day he was still just Rafael Barba. And she was filled with anticipation at getting to know the man behind the office.

“We’ll do it better next time,” Rafael assured.

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m no expert but I thought we did it pretty good this time.”

He flashed her a half smile. “No, I didn’t mean that, I...”

“I know.”

They looked at each other, faces beaming with the excitement and thrill of that came with having a ‘first time’ with someone.

“I’d better go,” she sighed after a few moments. “I need to get Noah to school.”

Rafael nodded. “I remember those mornings; they always seemed to be rather hectic, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you why.” He picked up her coat from the back of the chair and held it out for her.

“Do you miss it?” she asked noticing the wistful look in his eyes as he helped her into her coat. “Being able to drop Gabby off at school?”

“Y’know what, I do. But she probably doesn’t. Getting dropped off by armed agents has got to be cooler than being dropped off by your father, right?”

Olivia laughed. “Probably. So, I should…” She gestured to the door.

“Oh, right yeah.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and walked her to the door. “I’ll call you,” he promised. “I’ll be in Panama, but I’ll call you.”

“I’d like that.”

They paused in front of the still-closed door and their lips met again in a sweet kiss.

“Bye,” Rafael whispered as he pulled away and reached around her to open the door.

“Bye.”

* * *

As Fin turned the Escalade out of the White House gates onto Pennsylvania Avenue, Olivia gasped.

“What? What is it?” he asked, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror.

“My car…” She looked out of the back window as they drove away, the inconvenience of not having her vehicle for the rest of the day beginning to dawn on her. “I need to take Noah to school and then get to work and...”

“I can hang around and drive you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no problem. If I’m to be awake at this ungodly hour, I may as well make myself useful.”

He didn’t voice that he would actually prefer to wait around and drive her and Noah to school. For the moment, they press were still camped outside the White House, working on thew assumption that Olivia was still there, but there was no telling how long their ruse would hold up and he didn’t want her to be alone if she was ambushed by hordes of screaming reporters.

It was not a surprise when they had been awoken by the ringing of Rita’s phone at four-thirty – the perils of being in a relationship with the White House Chief of Staff – and he was all set to turn over and go back to sleep but then he’d heard Olivia’s name and his interest had been piqued. He’d laid there listening to Rita’s side of the conversation and it while he couldn’t work out exactly what was happening, he knew from her tone it wasn’t good.

He’d sat up as she dragged herself from bed and began dressing, talking to herself trying to fathom out a solution. Upon realising the situation, he had wanted to kill Rafael. How could he be so reckless? Didn’t he realise what this would mean for Olivia and Noah? So, when Rita asked him to go with her, to drive his old friend home, he hadn’t hesitated.

When they’d arrived, he had been ready to give Rafael a piece of his mind and was all set to follow Rita to his room. She’d had to threaten him with the Secret Service – and a loss of bedroom privileges – to get him to stay put and wait for Olivia.

Rita was gone for no more than ten minutes, and all she told him on her return was that Olivia would be there shortly. Then she disappeared to meet with Carisi and Pippa, so no further information was forthcoming leaving Fin still angry that Rafael would let this happen. Something he was determined to voice to Olivia. But when she arrived, the words died on his lips.

She was a little embarrassed at the way the morning had turned out but that couldn’t disguise her happiness. It oozed from her every pore. She was practically glowing. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her like this. Which was why, in the end, he held his tongue and resolved to do whatever he could to help their relationship work.

When they arrived at Amanda’s building, Fin drove past once to check the situation, but mercifully the street was quiet. So, he turned around and pulled up outside before allowing Olivia to lead him up to the apartment.

Olivia lay her purse and keys on the table near the door, and carefully eased open the hall closet to slide her coat inside. A smile tugged at her lips as she stooped to pull off her boots so that the heels would not be heard in the hall and wake anyone up. She could no more stop it than she could stop the warmth and flutter of her heart, or the way that emotion filled her at the thought of him. She thought of how he understood her concerns about Noah and had set about formulating a plan to keep him safe. She thought about the waves of pleasure they had experienced together. She thought of the way he kissed her this morning; his hands gentle in her hair, his lips soft, a promise in his gaze that he would see her soon. They both had a couple of busy days ahead. He was heading out this morning for a three-day tour of Central America and she would be beginning her campaign to convince twenty-four congresspeople to support her funding bill. And then Thursday was Thanksgiving. But they would find time to speak to each other during that time, she was sure.

“It's called the walk of shame for a reason.” A voice cut into her thoughts. “I don't think you're supposed to be smiling like that.”

Olivia looked up, to see Amanda sat at the table, a smirk on her face and a bowl of cereal in front of her. She shrugged nonchalantly, placing her boots on the rack by the door. She swept a hand down over her sweater and leggings, smoothing out the wrinkles that she was convinced must be showing. She hadn’t exactly taken the time to neatly fold her clothes when changing into Rafael’s shirt the night before. She walked towards the table and let her hands rest against the back of one of the dining chairs.

“So, good night?” Amanda grinned, her eyes sparkling knowingly at Olivia; wrinkled and a little mussed, her hair flat and tucked behind her ear.

“Yeah, it was very…” Her cheeks coloured as she searched for a word that would satisfy Amanda’s curiosity but not provoke further questions. She didn’t plan on discussing her evening in-depth – at least not without consuming a substantial amount of wine first. “…enjoyable. Is there coffee?”

“Should be just about ready.”

Olivia pulled a mug down from the cupboard and turned to Fin. “You want one?”

“Please.” 

“Amanda?”

Amanda nodded, her mouth full of cereal.

Two more mugs joined the first and Olivia poured them all a coffee.

“You goin’ to introduce me to your friend?” Amanda asked, staring at the stranger stood in her apartment.

Olivia opened the fridge and reached for the milk. “Amanda this is Fin. Fin, this is my best friend, Amanda.”

She gave him a small wave. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Fin was kind enough to drive me home because the press were waiting for me to leave – apparently they know my car.”

Amanda’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding?” She stood and went to the front window, peeking out of the curtain.

“There’s no-one out there,” Fin told her. “Think we left them at the White House.”

“Oh good. I didn’t fancy fighting my way through hordes of reporters to get to work.”

“Me neither,” Olivia admitted with a sigh. She placed Amanda and Fin’s coffee cups on the table before grabbing her own and taking a seat.

“Well, I hate to be the one to point this out,” Fin began, “but you’re involved with the wrong man if you want to avoid the attention of the press.”

“I know. Just because I don’t relish the idea of being hounded by the press, doesn’t mean I don’t think the end result will be worth the inconvenience.” She wrapped her hands around her mug. “Noah is my main concern, and Ra–” She caught herself and quickly corrected, “the President is putting things in place to deal with that.”

Amanda glanced at Fin, seeing that he too seemed to have noticed her almost slip. She placed her spoon back in the bowl and told her friend, “That’s good,”

“Yeah, it is.” Olivia lifted her cup, inhaling the beverage’s rich aroma before taking a slow sip. Lowering it again, she sighed. “Look, Amanda, I don’t want this to impact on you and Jesse so I think Noah and I should start sleeping at our new place. His room’s ready and I can live with the boxes for a few days.”

“Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay.”

Olivia shook her head. “It’s fine. We’ve really appreciated you putting us up, but it’s time. We’ve been here long enough.”

“Okay. Then I’ll give you a hand with the rest of your stuff tonight.” She got up and took her bowl to the sink. “You’re still coming for dinner on Thursday, right?”

Olivia stood and followed her friend, joining her at the sink. She nudged her shoulder gently. “Definitely. Noah would never forgive me if he missed out on watching the parade with Jesse.”

* * *

_The Residence_  
_The White House_  
_Thursday, November 28, 2019, 7.30am_

Thanksgiving dawned bright, cold, and crisp in Washington D.C with the previously forecast snow failing to materialise. Rafael was grateful for that. His mother had arrived to celebrate with him and Gabby and, while he loved his mother, the last thing he needed was for the weather to play havoc with her travel plans and have her stay longer.

They had only returned from Central America late last night - touching down at Andrews Airforce Base just after midnight – meaning he had yet to see his mother. She had arrived earlier in the afternoon but was already in bed when he returned to the White House. He felt a little bad about that, but it couldn’t be avoided, and he knew his mother would have enjoyed spending the evening with Gabby.

As he made his way to the family dining room for breakfast, he mentally prepared himself for the conversation he knew was coming. He’d successfully managed to avoid his mother’s calls since the State Dinner last week, but he knew that she’d called Gabriella, Carmen _and_ Rita trying to get information about Olivia.

Olivia. He smiled as she made his way into his thoughts. Having to go abroad immediately after spending the night with her hadn’t been ideal but he had managed to call her every evening. He would hang up with Gabriella after bidding her good night and then dial Olivia’s number. They had only managed brief conversations last night and Monday, but Tuesday he’d managed to carve out a whole half an hour in his schedule to talk to her.

He’d given her the highlights of his tour so far including his visit to the Panama Canal and tour of the control tower at the Miraflores Locks. Olivia had brought him up to speed about the move and how she and Noah had spent their first few nights in the new apartment, and reassured him that, while the press were camped outside her door, they had so far been respectful of Noah’s presence and hadn’t crowded her when he was with her. They’d discussed their respective Thanksgiving plans and arranged to have dinner on Friday evening.

Thinking about their plans for dinner put a spring in his step as he entered the family dining room. Breakfast was already underway; the table was set with a variety of fruit and pastries and Gabriella had a bowl of cereal in front of her. His eyes lit up when he spotted the plate of his mother’s trademark _pastelitos de guayab._ It was an old family recipe and by far one of his favourite Cuban dishes.

“ _Buenos dias, mi familia.”_

“Dad!” Gabriella’s excited voice filled the dining room, and she pushed her chair away from the table and ran to hug him.

Rafael gathered his daughter close and held on tightly. She was getting older and he was ever conscious that soon she may shy away from cuddles from him.

“Let me see you,” Rafael said, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length as his gaze swept over her. “Yeah, you’ve definitely grown while I was away.”

Gabriella shook her head. Her father did this joke every time he came back after travelling abroad. “You’ve been gone for three days, Dad.”

He glanced over his daughter’s shoulders to see his mother had also risen from the table.

“ _Hola, Mami_.” He stepped forward and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“ _Hola, Rafi_. You look tired, _mijo_. Are you getting enough sleep? What time did you get home last night?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as they all moved to take their seats. “Don’t fuss, _Mami_. We got back at around twelve-thirty, something like that.”

“Rita should have let you lie in today.”

“ _Mami_. I am not a child. While Rita may have some control over my office schedule, she does not dictate what time I wake up in the morning.”

“No,” agreed Gabriella, a smirk playing on her lips. “That’s Carmen’s job.”

“Only on paper.” As his personal aide, it was Carmen’s job to schedule his wake-up call, but more often than not, he decided the time, unless something came up overnight. “Pass the _pastelitos,_ please. _”_

Gabriella passed the plate to her father, who took two of the tasty treats. “So, what did you bring me back from your trip?” she asked eagerly.

“Gabriella, _nieta_ , I hardly think your father had time to go gift shopping, especially when he can’t even find time to speak to his mother.” Lucia stabbed at a piece of grapefruit with her fork before pointing it at him. “I’ve been calling.”

“Yes. Carmen mentioned that. I meant to call you back,” he fibbed, “but I’ve been a little busy, y’know, running the country.” He winked at Gabriella.

“Less of the sass, Rafi. _Sigue por camino y vas a terminar comiéndose la lengua.”_

Gabriella kept her eyes on her bowl of fruit but snorted at her father being admonished by his mother, earning her a narrow-eyed glare from Rafael.

Lucia arched an eyebrow at her son. “So, Olivia Benson? Tell me about her.”

Rafael sighed. “ _Mami_.”

“I see things on the news, read things in the papers. What I would like is to hear from you about this woman.”

When her father didn’t answer, Gabriella glanced from him to her grandmother and back again. Unable to deal with the silence, she spoke, “She’s nice, _Abuelita_.”

Lucia turned to her. “You’ve met her?”

“Yeah, she and Noah came for dinner.”

“Noah’s her son?

Rafael wiped his hands on his napkin. “Yes. He’s six.”

“When was this?”

“Last Saturday.”

Lucia thought for a moment. “Three dates in four days. Thursday, Saturday and then of course there was Sunday…” She let that sentence hang in the air and Rafael could sense the disapproval.

He glanced at Gabriella, who suddenly seemed very interested in her empty bowl of fruit. “ _Mami_ , _por favor_. Can we talk about this later? I have a lot to get through before dinner and I need to eat and go.”

The timing of the Summit of the Americas in Panama had caused no end of scheduling issues and meant that Rafael was forced to squeeze the turkey pardoning and Thanksgiving proclamation into the early part of the morning, so that the networks could broadcast them before the parade.

“Yes, but–”

“Excuse me, Mr President.”

Rafael could have hugged his Chief of Staff at that moment but managed to restrain himself.

“What is it, Rita?”

“We need you.”

“Gladly.” He took a final sip of coffee before standing. He dropped a kiss to the top of Gabriella’s head. “I will see you in a bit for the turkey pardoning okay, _estrellita?”_

She nodded as he headed for the door. “I’ll be there.”

“Oh, and Gabby,” he called over his shoulder. “If you go and look on my dresser, you might find something of interest.” He always brought her back a little something from his trips, but rarely bought it himself, usually sending Carmen or another aide to a local gift shop in his stead.

Gabriella jumped out of her seat and rushed over to him. “Thanks, Dad.” She gave him a quick hug before hurrying off down the hall.

“Rafi, this conversation isn’t over,” Lucia called.

“Of course not, _Mami_ ,” he replied, adding under his breath as he left the room, “I couldn’t be that lucky.” 

The morning passed quickly. Troy the turkey was pardoned and set to live out his days at a petting zoo in Wisconsin, Pippa led the invited children in a rousing rendition of ‘ _We Gather Together_ ’ and Rafael made his proclamation declaring the day a national day of thanksgiving. Then he, Gabriella and Lucia had gathered in the Residence to watch the parade, while eating the leftover pastelitos and he drinking his third and fourth cups of coffee. The parade was as much a staple of the Barba family tradition as it was of many American households. Before he was President, they would wake up early to brave the cold and stand on Sixth Avenue and watch it in person, as he had done with his grandmother when he was small. But the Secret Service had killed that idea when he’d mooted it that first Thanksgiving after the election. Too many threats. So, they had started a new tradition instead.

After the parade, his mother commandeered the residence kitchen – as she had done for the past two years – to make their dinner. Her argument was that she had been making the family’s thanksgiving lunch for three years and her son being president wouldn’t change that and this way, his kitchen staff could have the day off to spend with their nearest and dearest too. 

While she was busy stuffing the turkey and peeling potatoes, he’d snuck away to his study to make a quick call to Olivia’s cell and wish her and Noah a Happy Thanksgiving. It hadn’t taken long for Gabriella to find him, and when she discovered who he was talking to, she made him put the phone on speaker so she could join in. What was supposed to be a quick five-minute phone call, turned into an almost thirty-minute conversation full of stories, jokes, and laughter on both ends of the line.

Dinner had been a surprisingly quiet affair, which left Rafael a little on edge. His mother hadn’t mentioned his romantic life since breakfast, and he was waiting for her to continue her inquisition. He didn’t have to wait long. Almost as soon as the pumpkin pie was finished, Lucia dispatched Gabriella to make a start washing the dishes – another Barba family tradition – and turned to him.

“So, Olivia Benson.”

Rafael sighed. “What about her?”

“Tell me about her.”

“You read the papers, _Mami_ , I’m sure you already know everything you want to.”

“And some things that I do not. Honestly, Rafael, you’d barely known the woman a week and she spent the night?”

Rafael opened his mouth to respond but Lucia wasn’t finished.

“And don’t try and tell me she slept in the Lincoln bedroom because I was not born yesterday.”

“I wasn’t going to. But _Mami_ , Olivia and I are both adults an--”

“Yes, I am aware of that fact.”

Rafael stood. “Are you going to let me finish a sentence?” he asked, pacing the length of the room “Or are you determined to have this conversation all by yourself? Because I have plenty of other things I could be getting on with.”

Lucia raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, but waved a hand, gesturing for him to continue.

“ _Gracias_.” He leaned on the back of his chair and faced his mother. “Look, I’m not going to apologise for spending the night with Olivia. It was something we both wanted and neither of us regret it. However, I am sorry that it was plastered all over the news on Monday morning – I know how much things like that upset you. That was something neither of us foresaw or intended.”

“You should have foreseen it, Rafi.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled. “You’re probably right. But y’know what _Mami_ , I haven’t dated in a long time. And certainly not as President. We’re all flying a little blind here.”

Lucia sat back in her chair and regarded her son. She’d loved Lauren as if she were her own daughter and Rafael had been happy with her. When she died, and Rafael won the election, Lucia questioned if her son would ever have the chance to find anything near that level of happiness again. Now, she wondered if Olivia Benson could be the one to prove her wrong.

“She makes you happy?”

“We’ve known each other just short of two weeks, _Mami_. I hardly think that–”

She shook her head at him. “I know she does. I heard you on the phone.”

“What?”

“Earlier in your office. I came to ask you to help peel some potatoes and the door was ajar. You were on the phone to her. You and Gabriella.”

“I–”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh like that in a long time. And, when you’ve not been worrying about this conversation, you’ve been more relaxed than you have been for a while.”

“It’s early days, but yeah, she makes me happy.” His smile widened as he spoke about her. “She’s smart, funny, she’s great with Gabriella, and she doesn’t take any of my crap.”

“I like her already.”

He snorted. “I thought you might.”


	8. Chapter 8

_1789 Restaurant  
Georgetown, D.C.  
Friday, November 29, 2019 – 8.20pm_

“So, I got something of an inquisition from my mother yesterday,” Rafael told her, taking a sip of his wine. “About you.”

Her eyes widened a bit at that, and she swallowed nervously. “Oh?”

He reached across the table and placed a hand on her arm. “Relax. It was fine in the end.”

“In the end?”

He shrugged, not wanting to tell her of his mother’s less than thrilled response to the media attention they were getting. “She wants to meet you.”

“S-she does?” Olivia pushed the remains of her pasta around her plate with her fork. Meeting Gabriella had been one thing, but his mother, that was a whole different ball game. This was the woman who had given him life, who had raised him. And, from what Olivia could recall about her from reports during the campaign, Lucia Barba was a formidable woman. If the thought of meeting her didn’t fill Olivia with nerves, it would actually be fairly intriguing.

“Don’t worry, I managed to put her off for a bit. She’ll be busy with work until the holidays and then she’s going to Florida for Christmas, so it will be the new year before your subjected to Lucia Barba in full Cuban mother mode.”

“You’re not spending Christmas together?”

He shook his head, laying down his knife and fork. “Not this year. She and my Aunt Theresa are going on a cruise. It’s something they’ve wanted to do for a while,” he explained. “My cousin invited Gabby and I to her house for dinner, but they live on a busy street in the Bronx and it doesn’t seem fair on the neighbours to have the Secret Service seal off their street at Christmas.”

“So, it’ll just be the two of you?”

“We’ll have a quiet dinner on Christmas Eve and then go to Midnight Mass. Then on Christmas Day, we’ll open presents and then I’ll nap in the afternoon to make up for the ridiculously early time Gabriella will have me awake!”

Olivia laughed. “Oh, yes, I know all about that. I think Noah woke up at five-thirty last year.”

“Honestly, I thought as she got older her excitement would wane a little.”

“The magic of Christmas; everyone’s allowed to be a kid.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Olivia finished her pasta.

The food had been delicious, and the restaurant couldn’t have been more perfect. Amanda had seemed impressed when Olivia had told her where they were going, and she could see why. They were sat in one of the six dining rooms that the restaurant provided. Situated in a Federal period house in Georgetown, the room was beautifully decorated with antiques, historical prints and brass chandeliers giving it a classy, elegant feel which was only complimented by the artful array of wreaths, boughs, and branches. Their holiday décor was topped off with trees decked in ribbons and strings of sparkling lights draped from the beamed ceiling. The warm, welcoming ambiance was dulled a little by the presence of Secret Service agents at the other tables, and the knowledge that the press were right outside but Olivia could certainly see why The Washington Post had named it one of the most romantic restaurants in D.C..

When Rafael had first mentioned taking her out to dinner, she’d replied that she didn’t think presidents could do that, but he’d proven her wrong. He was determined that they have as normal a courtship as possible and she knew he was taking a chance by doing things no other president had done before, especially in an election year. She’d been hesitant at the start of this – not without good reason – and had needed him to persuade her that giving them a chance was the right thing to do. Maybe it was time for her to make a gesture of her own, to show that she was no longer uncertain about them.

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Y’know, if you and Gabriella want some company at Christmas, Noah and I will be around.”

His eyes found hers. “Yeah?”

“We’re having dinner with Amanda and Jesse on Christmas Eve – neither of us have much family around…” She trailed off. Now was not the time to discuss the disaster that was her family. He would come to know eventually and understand why she fought so hard for victims and survivors. But not tonight. “Like you, Christmas Day will be a bit of a lazy day, though,” she continued, “so if a better offer were to come along, I’m sure I could be convinced to reconsider my appointment with my couch…”

“Well then, I suppose I’d better see what I can come up with.”

* * *

As Christmas approached, Olivia and Rafael continued to spend time together and grow closer, talking on the phone nearly every night. The week after their Georgetown date, she and Noah attended the National Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony as guests of Rafael; the little boy staring up wide-eyed at the sight of 30-foot-high blue spruce as Gabriella pressed the button to light it up. There were several dinners at the White House too, as well as an advanced screening of Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker in the movie theatre,

Noah and Gabriella accepted their parents’ relationship without questions and began to form bonds with the new adults in their lives. Olivia and Gabriella bonded over their favourite tv shows and books, and the teenager asked for Olivia’s advice on which outfit to get for the holidays, while Rafael tapped into Noah’s love of dance and shared with him recordings of several Broadway musicals. The two children got on well too; having Noah around allowed Gabriella to cling onto some of the more ‘childish’ things she enjoyed, while Noah simply enjoyed the attention she paid him.

The dance class Noah had joined were having a Christmas recital and, despite only having attended a few classes since their move to DC, he was allocated the role of a snowflake in their piece from the Nutcracker. He invited Rafael and Gabriella, but they were unable to attend due to prior political engagements. Olivia recorded the recital on her phone though and the four of them watched together the following Saturday, curled up in the Residence living room. After a rousing round of applause, Rafael insisted Gabriella gave them a little performance of one of the pieces she was practising for her clarinet exam.

While the four of them were enjoying their new-found closeness, the country’s media were hooked on the story of their romance and spent several hours a day dissecting what they called ‘the girlfriend factor’. Pippa was inundated with questions every day in the briefing room and then promptly ignored when she reiterated to them that the President’s personal life was not the business of the White House Press Corps. Old classmates and co-workers of Olivia’s – some of whom she’d hardly spoken to – crawled out of the woodwork to have their fifteen minutes of fame. Political pundits and columnists appeared on the daily shows to discuss how the President’s decision to date seemed to be having a negative effect on his polling numbers; his job approval having taken an eight-point dip from his personal best of 63% before the state dinner. Conservative and religious family organisations, smelling blood in the water, also took their shot - citing concern for Gabriella and wanting a serious debate on family values.

Peter Stone and the GOP made their views known too, attacking Rafael’s character every time they were behind a microphone or in front of a camera. And all the while, they were watching and waiting for something they could use to further their cause as they ramped up their campaign for election.

* * *

_Ramada Hotel  
Manchester, NH  
Tuesday, December 17, 2019 – 7.15pm_

“I agree with you a hundred and ten percent, Mrs. Harper. That's why I'm up here on this bleak midwinter night, discussing it with you all,” Peter Stone looked up from his phone as his aide entered and waved a manila envelope in front of him. Stone signalled for another aide to come and take over his call. “That's very generous of you, ma'am, and I'm gonna take that money off your hands right now.”

He handed the phone off to his aide and turned. “What have you got for me, Stu?”

“Call me Santa Claus, Senator. She’s got an FBI file.”

“Oh shit Stu, my mother’s got an FBI file.” He began to walk away but stopped on hearing Stu’s next words.

“Yeah, but I got art.”

Stu pulled an 8x10 photo from the envelope and handed it to Stone. “It's a demonstration outside the Supreme Court. The picture's old, and a lot of the faces are obscured by the fire, but that’s a burning flag. And that’s Olivia Benson right there in front.”

Stone stared at the photo, a smirk forming on his face. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” he sang to himself.

* * *

_The Oval Office  
The White House  
Wednesday, December 18, 2019 – 6.30pm_

As Rafael finished up his phone call, Carmen was gathering together the things he would need for the evening. She slipped a small stack of note cards for his speech in his jacket pocket and rounded his desk, picking up some briefing memos and sliding them into his briefcase.

“Douglas, does the N.R.A. have video of you playing golf with Satan? We've already softened the assault weapons. We're leaving the SKS, the mini 14, and about 250 other types on the street. I mean, how much pull can one lobby have?”

Stopping in front of him, Carmen tapped her wristwatch twice and gave him a pointed look, before picking up his coat.

“Yeah, look, we're gonna have to continue this conversation tomorrow. I'm late for the party fund-raiser. And Douglas, I'll be sure and put in a good word for you … Yeah, okay.”

He hung up and turned to Carmen.

“You’re incredibly late.” She helped him on with his coat and handed him his scarf as Rita entered.

“Mr. President. I just got off the phone with the Federal Mediator in St. Louis. Management just walked away from the table. The baggage handlers, pilots and flight attendants are all getting set to walk out in forty-eight hours.

“I clerked for one of the best, most respected justices in this country and you know what he taught me?”

“Never have an airline strike at Christmas?”

“Yeah. I'm going to St. Louis.”

“Good. You can leave straight from the fund-raiser, sir.”

“Thanks Rita.”

“Good luck, Mr President.”

Rafael and Carmen walked briskly through the halls of the West Wing to the waiting motorcade. They had just stepped outside when Pippa’s voice rang out.

“Sir!”

They turned to see her and Carisi hurrying to catch them.

“Mr President, could we have a moment, please?”

Carmen looked at her watch. “He’s incredibly late.”

“Hop in,” Rafael declared. “We can talk in the car.”

The four of them piled in, Carisi and Pippa settling in the seats opposite Rafael and Carmen, and the motorcade took off toward the White House gates.

“What is it, Sonny?”

“We’ve got a small problem.”

“It could've been a small problem. Now, at the very least, it’s a medium-sized nightmare,” argued Pippa.

“Pippa sees it as a problem,” Carisi explained. “I see it as an opportunity.”

Pippa turned in her seat to face her colleague. “It could've been an opportunity if we'd caught it...”

“We caught it,” Carisi pointed out.

“Yeah, at 5:45. Five-forty-five doesn't do me any good, Sonny. Five-forty-five, network news is in makeup.”

He shook his head. “You have twelve people working for you. Why didn’t any of them–”

Rafael, who had been watching the exchange with some amusement, finally decided to step in. “Guys, do I have to be here for this meeting?

They both faced their boss, looking slightly sheepish.

“I'm sorry, sir,” began Carisi. “It's on the evening news. It’s buried as the third story–”

“It's got a bullet,” Pippa added.

Carisi took a breath. “Olivia was at a protest rally. They burned a flag.

Rafael frowned. “Today?”

“About twenty-eight years ago.”

“In front of the Supreme Court,” added Pippa. “Against proposed changes to state abortion laws in Pennsylvania.”

“Let me see if I've got this: The third story on the news tonight was that someone I didn't know twenty-eight years ago, when I wasn't President, participated in a demonstration where no laws were being broken in protest of something that the majority of the country would be against today? Just out of curiosity, what was the fourth story?”

“Right. See, I think it's important when we deal with it, that we–”

“Don't deal with it.”

“Excuse me?”

“They're just trying to get us to rise to the bait. No one wins these fights. It'll go away.”

Carisi and Pippa glanced at each other, an unspoken debate as to who should step up and tell the President he was wrong. Carisi lost.

“Sir, I'm not sure that's the wisest course of–”

“Aw...hell!”

Pippa glanced up at his exclamation. “See, it's already distracting you. Why don't you let Rita and Sonny-"

“No, you just reminded me, I'm supposed to have dinner with Olivia tonight.”

* * *

_Olivia’s Apartment  
Georgetown, D.C.  
Wednesday, December 18, 2019 – 6.45pm_

Olivia stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, holding a black dress up to her body and regarding it.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous, Amanda. I love it.”

“I can’t believe I’m loaning you clothes,” Amanda replied from her position on Olivia’s bed. She tapped the discarded clothes hanger against her thigh. “I thought you owned every piece of clothing there was.”

“Work clothes, yeah. I always have dinner at the White House wearing a suit, I thought a dress would be nice.”

“Go ahead, try it on.” 

Olivia was about to do just that when the phone rang.

“I brought matching earrings too,” Amanda added as Olivia crossed the room to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, a smile forming as she heard Rafael’s voice.

“Hi.”

“Are you busy?”

“I was just trying on dresses; trying to decide what to wear tonight.”

“Listen, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel our date.”

“Another woman?” she joked.

He scoffed. “No. I have to go to St Louis to avert a massive airline strike.”

“If only I had a nickel for every time I heard that one.”

“I really am sorry,”

“I know, it’s fine.” Olivia understood. It had been clear after their second date had been interrupted that there would be occasions when his job would infringe on their time together. And unfortunately, when his job called, he had to answer.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bye.”

She hung up and turned to face Amanda. “Duty has called and the date’s off,” she told her, “You and Jesse fancy sticking around for pizza?”

“Sure.” She shuffled to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over the edge, handing the clothes hanger to Olivia. “I’ll go order. You want your usual?”

“Yeah,” Olivia hung the dress and ran her fingers over the sleeve one last time. It really was beautiful.

“Keep it for next time,” Amanda told her from the doorway. “I can always grab it back from you if I need it.”

* * *

_Presidential Limo  
Washington D.C._   
_Wednesday, December 18, 2019 – 6.50pm_

Rafael hung up the phone. “Oh, I hate doing that. She was trying on dresses.”

Carmen gave him a sympathetic smile as Carisi offered his own advice on the situation.

“I tell any girl I'm going out with to assume that all plans are soft until she receives confirmation thirty-minutes beforehand.

Pippa glanced at him. “And they find this romantic?”

“Well, I say it with a great deal of charm.”

Rafael shook his head at his senior policy advisor and as he did so, he spotted something out of the car window.

“Look! Look! There it is!” he pointed “Janie's House of Flowers!” The group gathered in car looked in the direction of his finger as he continued. “We’ve got to stop.”

Carisi’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“I’ve got to get her some flowers,” Rafael explained.

“Here?! Now?!” chorused Carisi and Pippa in alarm

“Well, that’s what men do when they break a date.”

“That’s not what men do,” Pippa assured him. “I know no men who do that.”

“Well you do now. Coop,” he called to his agent in the front “I'm gonna hop out at the flower shop.”

“You're gonna hop out, sir?”

No, he's not hopping,” protested Carisi. “No hopping, sir. Stay in the car. I'll get the flowers.”

“Then it's not personal.”

The motorcade slowed, indicating that Carisi’s protests had fallen on deaf ears.

He sighed. “At least let the agents do a security sweep. We don't know who's in there.”

Rafael regarded him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “You think there's a florist in there planning an assassination on the off-chance I might be stopping by?”

“It's possible,” he argued meekly, watching as Rafael left the limo, Agent Cooper trailing after him.

The young girl behind the counter didn’t even look up as they entered. She sat with her back to the door and the phone to her ear. “No. No, you’re not hearing me. Listen to what I’m saying. It was at the basketball game...”

Rafael approached the counter. “Excuse me?” 

But the girl continued her phone conversation, oblivious. “No, girl, it was at the game. I'm telling you; Kiki wasn't even there.”

“Excuse me?” Rafael tried again.

The girl sighed. “Hold on,” she said to her friend, before turning to face Rafael. “I will be right with you.”

Her eyes widened as she realised the identity of her customer.

“Hey, I don't know if you're the one I talked to on the phone... New York, roses, President... any of it ring a bell?”

The girl stared open mouthed, before fainting and falling to the floor.

Rafael peered over the counter. “Same girl. She remembers me.”

* * *

_The Presidential Suite_  
Hilton Hotel, St Louis  
Wednesday, December 18, 2019 – 10.45pm

_“…And I’m glad to see the President’s got a girlfriend.”_

Peter Stone’s voice blared from the TV in the make-shift office that the President’s staff had set up in the hotel. He was speaking at a black-tie fundraiser for the Republican Leadership Alliance and, once again, attacking Rafael’s character, much to the delight of the crowd.

_“Never mind she's the hired gun of an ultra-liberal political action committee. Never mind that the President takes the Fifth anytime a reporter has the temerity to ask a question about a woman in a position to exert enormous influence over a huge range of issues.”_ The crowd were getting more and more worked up as Stone spoke, shouting and cheering. _“Never mind that this woman's idea of how to unwind at the end of a tough day is to get together with her ACLU pals and to set American flags on fire...”_

Pippa shook her head. “No reaction from the White House.” She looked at Carisi and he shrugged.

“Because it doesn’t need to be dignified with a response,” Rafael said, the phone to his ear. “There’s no upside, I’m leaving it alone.”

“What do Sonny and Pippa think?” Olivia asked; the same footage playing on her TV. She was curled up on the sofa in her apartment, her legal pad on her knee as she mapped out a strategy for her meeting in the morning. 

“Brutus and Cassius?” He smiled to himself. “They want me to get into the character debate and mix it up.

“Sonny and Pippa are very smart,” she told him.

Rafael turned to his staff. “Olivia says you guys are really stupid.”

“I didn't say that!” she shouted into the phone.

But Rafael continued. “She's questioning your loyalty.”

“Hell, I question it all the time,” Carisi quipped.

“Oh, wait a second,” Rafael said to Olivia, his attention back on the television. “Here comes my favourite part.”

_“My name is Peter Stone, and I'm running for President!”_

“It's a good thing he cleared that up, because that crowd was about to buy some Flex Seal products.”

“His numbers are climbing,” Olivia told him. She’d never been particularly political, but she’d paid more attention recently to polling data.

“Liv, his numbers have nowhere to go but up.”

“What about yours?”

“We're fine. We'll be back up in the 60's once I get the votes for the crime bill.” He paused, leaning back on his sofa. “Say, what're you doing this weekend?”

“I've got some work I was gonna bring home. Why?

“Well, negotiations have started pretty well here. Another session tomorrow and I’m sure the nation's going to keep on flying. So I was thinking we could do something You, me Gabby and Noah.”

“What'd you have in mind?”

“Have you ever been to Camp David?”

“Camp David? Sure. We used to go there all the time, but then they changed chefs and...”

“You're sassing me?!”

She laughed. “Well, someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“Gabby and I usually try to go up to there the weekend before Christmas and we wondered if you and Noah would like to join us.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Think you could leave work a little early? We were planning on making our way as soon as Gabby gets home from school.”

“I think I can move some things around.”

“Great. I’ll have someone pick you up.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this is in the original film - so this is ALL me! (Hope it's still as good)

_Camp David,  
Catoctin Mountain Park, MD  
Friday, December 20, 2019 – 4.15pm_

“Wow! Momma, look!”

Olivia looked up at from her magazine at her son’s excited gasp. Noah had been beside himself since the moment he had realised they would be travelling by helicopter; bouncing on his toes as he watched it land outside the Oval Office and talking a mile a minute about every little detail he noticed. So much so, that she had begun to tune him out. She followed his gaze out of the window of Marine One as Camp David came into view.

“I see it, sweet boy.”

Pulling Noah onto her lap, she scooted over to the window seat to get a better view and was faced with a vast blanket of complete whiteness with few buildings here and there, between the trees. She winced a little, not completely prepared for how much the late afternoon sunlight reflecting off the snow would hurt her eyes. Letting her gaze adjust, she drank it all in as the helicopter approached its destination

“Do you ever get used to helicopters dropping you off at your front door?” Olivia asked Rafael, who was say opposite her, finishing up a crossword puzzle.

“How many “e”s in “kaleidoscope”?” he asked.

Olivia, looking at Gabriella, shook her head. “Hmm, I guess you do.”

The girl shared a smile with Olivia as she rolled her eyes and nudged her father.

“What?” he asked. 

“We have guests,” she reminded him, her eyebrow raised in a perfect imitation of Lucia. “What would your _abuelita_ say if she knew you were ignoring them?”

Rafael folded the paper and looked at Olivia. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Oh, and it’s two, by the way.”

“Two?”

“Two ‘e’s in kaleidoscope. K-A-L-E-I-D-O-S-C-O-P-E. Kaleidoscope.”

“You won your middle school spelling bee, didn’t you?” he asked, as he unfolded the paper and filled in the squares.

“No, actually, I didn’t. Claire Williamson did and that's not something I really like to talk about.”

“Okay, I’m sensing a story and a little pent-up hostility there. But just remember, you’re the one riding in Marine One with the President.”

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom advising that they were ready to land and everyone began packing up.

“How’s the book?” Rafael asked Gabriella as she slid her new copy of ‘ _Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret’_ into the front pocket of her backpack.

“Well, I’m only a couple of chapters in, but it’s really good.” She looked to Olivia. “Thanks for picking it up for me.” 

“No problem. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. She’d been in Barnes & Noble on her lunch break buying some last-minute books for Noah for Christmas when she’d spotted the book on the ‘young adult’ display. She’d remembered reading and enjoying it when she was a teenager so, thinking it was something that Gabriella would also enjoy, she’d thrown a copy into the basket with her choices for Noah. When she’d arrived home, she’d decided to gift Noah one of his books early – something to read on the helicopter flight – and had taken Gabriella’s too, figuring she could nip back to the store on Monday for something else, perhaps by the same author if this one proved a success.

The helicopter landing was smooth, and Rafael stepped out first, turning and holding out his hand to help Olivia and Noah disembark after him. Olivia allowed herself a small smile at the sight of the staff and Marine personnel holding their hats to their head against the wind that the propeller generated. Gabriella was the last one out of the helicopter, confidently hopping out without any assistance.

The chief usher greeted them and led them to a golf cart. Rafael shook hands with the driver and took a seat.

“Hop in,” he instructed Olivia.

She barked out a laugh, her breath visible in the frigid air. “Are you serious?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want to walk?”

Gabriella climbed in behind her father. “This is how we get around up here.”

Olivia tugged her coat tighter around her and took her seat in the cart next to Rafael, Noah on her knee. The vehicle made its way along the tree-lined paths of the resort.

“Is it far?” Noah asked.

Rafael wrapped his arm around Olivia’s shoulders and leaned closer to the boy. “No, we’re nearly there. Look.” He pointed between the trees.

Peeking out from between the branches was the snow-covered roof of a lodge.

The golf cart rounded a couple more corners before pulling up outside the single storey dwelling.

“It’s beautiful,” Olivia said, taking in the building and it’s rustic setting.

“Why’s it called Camp David?” Noah asked, as they climbed out.

“Because Dwight D. Eisenhower – you know who he is, right?”

Noah nodded. “We learned about him in school. He was President, like you.”

“That’s right. Well, his father was called David and so was his grandson, so he decided to name this place after them.”

“It’s not its ‘official’ name though,” Gabriella added, as they climbed the porch steps.

“It’s not?”

Rafael shook his head. “No. It’s called NSF Thurmont.”

Noah’s brown furrowed.

“That’s just it’s military title. You can still call it Camp David,” he assured the boy. “Everybody does.”

“Okay.”

“Well, here we are.” Rafael pushed open the front door. “Welcome to Aspen Lodge.”

The room was spacious and outlined in neutral tones, giving it a relaxed inviting atmosphere. Two large, leather corner sofas sat in the middle of the room, making a u-shape in front of the stone fireplace, which was already lit in anticipation of their arrival. Two tall mahogany bookcases, bursting with books, stood each side of the chimney breast, and a flatscreen television was mounted on the brick. Scattered randomly about was a rosewood coffee table, a cedar and brass bound secretaire campaign chest and a Regency mahogany chiffonier topped with framed photos and what looked like little pottery ornaments made by a young Gabriella. Thick Persian rugs covered the varnished wooden floorboards, red and white chequered curtains hung from each window and a fluffy blanket was draped over the back of the sofa. In the far corner, stood a 6ft Norwegian spruce, tastefully decorated in a combination of red and gold ornaments.

Stepping further into the room, Rafael began the tour. “This is the main living space, and through there…” he pointed to a door in the corner, “is a small kitchen and dining room.” Waving his arm, he continued, “That’s the sunroom through there, but I wouldn’t recommend that at this time of year. It can get a little chilly.”

Gabriella jumped over the back of the sofa and sprawled out on her stomach, pulling the blanket over her. She pulled her book out of her bag and, after a few moments of fidgeting to get comfortable – and fully covered by the blanket - opened it and began to read.

Noah, having seen Gabriella jump the sofa, tried it himself, but ended up scrambling to pull himself up and over. Rafael reached out to ensure he didn’t fall, picking him up and tickling him.

When the boy’s laughter died down, Rafael set him down on the floor. “Want to see your room for the weekend?”

“Yeah!”

“Come on then.” He took Noah’s hand, and led him and Olivia through the living room and through a door on the other side.

“That’s Gabby’s room.” Rafael pointed at the first door on the right and then turned to the one opposite. “And this is yours.”

He opened the door and Noah ran inside. It wasn’t a typical children’s bedroom, but there was dinosaur bedding on the bed and a night-light on the bookcase, as well as a small toy box in the corner of the room.

Olivia raised an eyebrow at Rafael, suspecting that the room hadn’t looked like this the last time he’d been up there.

He shrugged. “I made a couple of calls,” he admitted. “I just wanted him to feel at home.”

She flashed him a grateful smile. “Noah, what do you say to Rafael?” she prompted her son. He had started off calling Rafael, ‘President Barba’ or ‘Mr President’ at her instruction, but that hadn’t lasted long. Rafael had quickly insisted he drop the title and call him by his given name, wanting the boy to be comfortable around him. It had taken some convincing, but eventually he had won Olivia over by saying that if she persisted, he would have Gabriella revert to calling her Ms Benson.

“Thank you.” He gave Rafael a quick hug before retrieving Eddie the Elephant from his backpack and setting him on the bed. Once he was sure his furry friend was settled, he turned back to the adults. “Where will Momma sleep?” he asked.

Rafael swallowed, not quite sure how to explain to the boy that Olivia would be sharing his bed. Whenever Olivia had visited the White House with Noah, she had always taken him home to sleep. In fact, since that first time, the two of them had only spent the night together on one other occasion, when Noah had visited Amanda’s for a sleepover with Jesse.

Luckily, Olivia wasn’t fazed by her son’s question. “I’ll be in Rafa’s room,” she told him.

“It’s just across the hall,” Rafael added. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

* * *

_Camp David,_  
Catoctin Mountain Park, MD  
Saturday, December 21, 2019 – 7.15am

Olivia awoke the next morning to find herself alone in bed. Sitting up, she shivered, noticing the chill in the room. The fire must have gone out at some point during the night. There wasn't a clock in the room, so she had no idea what time it was, but could see it was still pretty dark outside. She shivered again as the faint sound of laughter reached her ears. Removing the covers, she swung her legs to the side and almost yelped as her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. Quickly, she pulled on an oversized sweater, a pair of leggings, and her thick woollen socks, and went to investigate.

The living room was empty, but the voices were getting louder, so she kept going until she reached the kitchen. Rafael was standing at the stove fully dressed – including a ridiculous looking apron - preparing breakfast. She leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching the domestic scene before her. Gabriella and Noah, still in their pyjamas, sat at the table, the younger hanging on Rafael’s every word, the elder with her face still buried in her new book. At this rate, she was going to have finished it before they got back to D.C. on Sunday.

“Here you go Noah.” Rafael set a bowl and wooden spoon down in front of the boy. “Give this a stir, okay?”

“Okay.” Noah picked up the spoon and began to mix the contents of the bowl together.

Rafael watched him for a moment and then moved behind him, guiding his hand in large circles, rather than back and forth he had started out with. “That’s it, you’ve got it,” he praised.

Stepping back to let him try on his own, Rafael looked up and noticed Olivia watching them with a wistful smile on her face. He turned on the heat under the frying pan before walking over to her.

“Morning,” he greeted, stealing a quick kiss.

She smiled against his lips, cupping his cheek. “Morning,” she replied as he pulled away.

Rafael had been concerned about how affectionate they should be in front of the kids, but they’d talked about it last night and agreed that small displays of affection such as holding hands, hugging or quick kisses should be fine. During their discussion, it had taken all Olivia’s willpower not to point out to him that Gabriella knew she’d spent the night at the White House twice, and given her age, Olivia was pretty certain that she knew they’d had sex. But given that she didn’t want him to have an aneurism less than six weeks into their relationship, she’d managed to restrain herself.

“Momma!” Noah looked at her, beaming. “We’re making chocolate chip pancakes.”

She placed a kiss on her son’s tangled curls, making a mental note to try and get them cut before Christmas Eve. “I can see that, sweet boy.” She sat down on the chair Rafael pulled out for her. “Morning, Gabby.”

“Morning,” she replied, without looking up.

Rafael plucked the book from her hands.

“Hey!” She stood, trying to grab it back, but Rafael held it out of her reach.

“Did you, or did you not, scold me aboard Marine One yesterday for ignoring our guests?”

“I didn’t ignore Olivia,” she protested. “I replied.”

“Barely,” Rafael countered, placing the book on top of the refrigerator. “The book goes away while we eat breakfast. Make yourself useful and gather the toppings.”

He took the batter from Noah and turned to the stove, where the pan was now sufficiently heated. He poured in some batter as Gabriella grabbed a selection of fruit and raided the cupboards for some bowls and a variety of different syrup bottles. She gave the fruit a quick rinse before sitting at the table with a chopping board and knife, preparing some strawberries.

“Let me help with that,” Olivia said, standing and retrieving a knife from the drawer she’d seen Gabriella open. She spotted some bananas on the side and gestured to them. “May I?” she asked.

“Help yourself,” Rafael told her, turning back to the table. “Hey Noah, watch this!”

Noah gasped in awe when Rafael expertly flipped the first pancake, his eyes fixated on it as glided into the air and then landed back safely in the pan.

“Woah!” he exclaimed. 

Rafael smiled down at him as he returned the pan to the heat to cook the other side of the pancake. Once cooked, he slid it onto a plate and put it in the oven to keep warm. Picking up the bowl, he paused before pouring more batter.

“Gabby, you wanna flip the next one?”

“Yeah,” she replied, scraping the strawberries into a bowl. Olivia had cut up the banana and there were blueberries and raspberries too. “Do you think you guys will want anything else?” she asked. “There’s cereal or yoghurt, probably pastries too.”

Olivia surveyed the table. “I think we’re good, but we’ll bear it in mind.”

“Okay, Gabs, you’re up.”

Rafael watched closely as his daughter picked up the pan and geared up to flip its contents.

She fixed him with a withering look. “Dad!”

“What?”

“You’re hovering.”

“Can you blame me? Last time, we were scraping it off the ceiling.” 

Gabriella’s cheeks went red. “Daaaad!”

Noah giggled and, after Gabriella's pancake successfully landed back in the pan, he tugged on the sleeve of Olivia’s sweater, beckoning her closer. She leaned down and Noah whispered in her ear.

She smiled at her son. “I’m sure he will, but why don’t you ask him yourself.”

“Rafael,” he began, not meeting the man’s eyes. “Can… can you teach me how to do that?”

“Sure, if that’s alright with your mom.” He’s been going to ask if the boy wanted to have a go with the next one anyway.

“Just be careful, sweet boy.”

He nodded. “I will.”

When the next pancake was ready for flipping, Rafael helped Noah to kneel on his chair, so he could stand behind him and help guide him with what to do. He brought the pan over, cautioning the boy against touching it and helped him grip the handle safely.

“Okay, so after three, we’re going to flick the pan upwards,” Rafael explained. “You ready?” Noah nodded so Rafael began the countdown. “Three… Two… One… Go!” 

The pancake flew into the air and, with a bit of creative movement from Rafael, it landed back in the pan to a round of applause from Olivia and Gabriella. Rafael returned it to the stove as Noah joined in the celebrations. 

“I did it!”

Olivia hugged him and kissed the side of his head. “Well done!”

“Liv, do you want to…?” he gestured to the pan.

“No thanks. I think I’ll sit this one out if that’s okay. My history with pancake flipping is not great.” She turned to Gabriella. “I’ve had to scrape my fair share off the ceiling too,” she told her with a wink.

A few more successful pancake flips and breakfast was served. Olivia tried not to cringe at the amount of syrup Noah poured on his, reminding herself that they had a day full of winter activities planned, which should help him burn off all the sugar.

Once their plates were clear, Gabriella and Noah lounged on the sofa – he watching cartoons and her with her nose back in her book – while Rafael took a quick call from Rita. Olivia poured herself a second cup of coffee, slipped on the sneakers that she abandoned by the front door yesterday, and stepped out onto the porch.

She leaned on the railing, looking out over the grounds. Snow was falling softly, and the morning sun was making everything glisten and sparkle. A veritable winter wonderland. She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, seeking its warmth.

It was nice to be out of the city and know that she didn’t have to deal with the national and international media for a couple of days. Every time she left home or work, the press were there; cameras flashing and reporters bombarding her with questions. They seemed to think they had a right to know the intimate details of their relationship. If she had Noah with her, they were usually more respectful. They would still be there still there, but there was less noise and furore. Thankfully, Noah hadn’t seemed fazed by their presence at all and just accepted it as part of being close with the President. And, as much as it annoyed her, Olivia knew she had to as well. If Rafael was re-elected and things worked out between them, she was going to be dealing with the press for another five years.

The squeak of the door alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone, and a moment later, she felt a blanket being draped around her shoulders.

He leaned in; his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, “Can’t have you freezing to death.”

She turned her head and offered him a grateful smile. “I can see why you like it here. It’s so beautiful and peaceful.”

“That and, y’know, the ability to run a global war from the sun porch.”

She smiled. “Yes, that too.”

He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her. “You okay?”

She nodded, snuggling back into him. She hadn’t realised how much the cold had seeped in, until she felt the warmth radiating from him. “I was just thinking about how nice it is to be here, hidden away from the world.”

His brow furrowed. “Are the press giving you a hard time?”

“No more than usual, but it’s still nice to have break from them.”

“I get that. You will tell me though if it becomes too much?”

Balancing her cup on the railing, she turned in his arms. “Yes,” she promised. Her hand found his stubbled cheek and she pressed her lips against his. His hands found her waist and he stepped them backwards, trapping Olivia between his body and the railing as he deepened the kiss.

“Ew. Gross!”

They had been so engrossed in each other that they hadn’t heard the squeak of the door and Gabriella’s voice resounding from behind them was like being doused with a bucket of ice water. Rafael’s hands dropped away from Olivia and she turned her face away, cheeks flaming.

Rafael turned to find Gabriella in the doorway, Noah in front of her. The teenager had her hands over the little boy’s eyes.

“What’s gross?” What?” Noah wriggled free of Gabriella, looking around.

Hearing her son’s questions, she whipped round, ignoring the atmosphere that was developing between Rafael and his daughter. “Noah, you couldn’t grab your coat?”

The little boy merely shrugged in reply.

Olivia shook her head at him and, seeing a chance to escape the embarrassing situation, she swept him into her arms and carried him inside.

Rafael looked at his daughter; the girl that was growing up faster than he would like. She clearly wasn’t completely comfortable with what she’d witnessed, but she hadn’t run. He moved to the bench that stood against the wall of the lodge and sat, tapping the seat next to him.

Gabriella regarded him for a moment, before shuffling over to join him.

“So, this is…” exhaled as he tried to think of the best way to address what she’d walked in on.

“Embarrassing?” she suggested. “Humiliating? Mortifying?”

“Any of those would work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“I know I asked you this at the time of the state dinner but maybe we should revisit it… Are you okay with me and Olivia being together?”

She bobbed her head. “Yeah, it’s just, I don’t wanna y’know… see that.” She waved her arm toward the railing where he and Olivia had been when she’d walked outside. She knew Olivia had spent the night at the White House – the whole world knew; it had been all over the papers – and she knew that meant they’d probably had sex. But she chose not to think about it and certainly didn’t want to witness anything. “I mean, would you want to walk in on me kissing some boy.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “What boy?”

“Relax, Dad. There’s no boy.”

“But you said—”

“It was a hypothetical situation, Dad. But would that be something you’d want to see?”

“Definitely not. You make a good point. We’ll try and not get too carried away while you’re around, but there will be times, like this morning for instance, when you’re not there and then suddenly you are and—”

“Yeah, I get it. And I’ll try and not be so vocal about the grossness of it all if I do see it. Because it is gross, y’know. Old people kissing, eurgh.” She made a face and shuddered.

Rafael laughed. He supposed he could understand it; he couldn’t imagine being happy if he walked in on his mother in a similar situation.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” Gabriella declared, standing. “It’s freezing out here.” She headed inside but stopped in the doorway, turning back to her father. “And don’t worry about Olivia. I like her, Dad. I really do.”

She slipped inside leaving him to vocalise his next thoughts alone. “So do I, Gabby. So do I.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait between chapters. Schools closed here to most pupils in Jan (after being fully open at the start of the year) so my workload has doubled as I try to teach online and to a small bunch of vulnerable/key worker children in class. As a result, I haven't had much time to write. 
> 
> Thank you for your continued patience.

_Camp David,  
Catoctin Mountain Park, MD  
Saturday, December 21, 2019 – 8.40am_

“But I don’t want to wear gloves,” pouted Noah as his mother tried to wrestle him into the woollen garments. He’d gotten dressed without a problem – the promise of playing in the snow was a great motivator but Olivia wasn’t satisfied that rain boots and a coat would be sufficient protection against the elements.

“Well, you’re not going outside without them,” she warned. “It’s far too cold, especially if you’re going to play in the snow. You need your hat and scarf too.”

“But my gloves make my hands all sweaty,” he argued.

“Would you rather have sweaty hands or frostbitten fingers?” Olivia retorted, refusing to budge on the issue. She had no problem with him playing in the snow as long as he was wrapped up warm.

Olivia heard the front door open and close as she battled with Noah to get him into his winter woollies. Aside from his boots – which he loved wearing because they had dinosaurs on – he grumbled about everything else she made him wear. He repeated the fact the gloves made his hands sweat, he accused Olivia of trying to strangle him with his red scarf and he claimed his hat made his head itch.

“If you don’t stop complaining, we’ll stay inside.” Olivia gave her son his final warning.

“Awww, but…”

“No buts,” she replied, pulling the hat firmly back down over his curls. “There we go, I think you’re ready.”

“You’re not wearing gloves,” Noah told her, looking pointedly at her hands.

“That’s because I’m not ready yet.” She guided Noah to the door. “Go and wait in the living room, I’ll only be a moment.”

Noah bolted down the hallway and Olivia could hear him talking to Rafael – probably trying to convince him to let him remove his gloves – as she entered their room. She quickly changed into her snow gear and grabbing her hat and gloves from her suitcase, went to join them.

She stepped out into the hallway at the same time as Gabriella was leaving her room. The teenager offered her a quick smile but didn’t make eye-contact with her. She stood in her doorway; her gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

Olivia sighed. “Gabby, about earlier…”

She glanced up. “Olivia, please...”

“Look, the last thing I want to do is embarrass you, but I just wanted to say-”

“Dad already talked to me,” Gabriella told her. “He said you’ll try and cool it on the PDAs when I’m around.”

“PDAs? Your father actually said that?”

Gabriella laughed and shook her head. “I’m paraphrasing.”

Olivia smiled. “Well, however he said it, he’s right. We _should_ be more respectful of you… and Noah. I can’t imagine that was something you enjoyed seeing…”

“No, not really.”

“…and I’d hate it to spoil the weekend. So, is there any chance we can maybe… not forget it, exactly but move past it and enjoy our time up here?” She tilted her head at the young girl and gave her a warm smile.

The teenager was silent for a moment as she considered Olivia’s words. “Yeah, I guess we can do that.”

“Good. We should probably…” Olivia gestured to the living area with a smile.

Gabriella nodded and headed down the hall, Olivia following behind.

Rafael looked up from his place on the floor playing War with Noah when he heard the door open and was surprised to see Olivia and Gabriella enter together. He glanced between them, finally settling on Olivia, with a questioning look in his eyes. She offered him a small nod and smile to assure him everything was okay. He returned the gesture before standing.

“Are we all set to go?”

“Yeah!” shouted Noah, jumping up and heading for the door.

“Hold it!” Olivia called after him, as Rafael picked up the playing cards.

Noah skidded to halt. “What,” he asked innocently, his hands behind his back.

“Where are your gloves?” she asked, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. Noah huffed and sheepishly returned to the couch, pulling his gloves out from where he’d stuffed them in between the cushions.

* * *

With Noah finally back in his gloves, the four of them left the lodge to take a wintery walk through the woods. The trees towered over them; their bare branches covered in snow.

“Over there,” Gabriella pointed between the trees, “was where I saw a deer last summer.”

“Will we see a deer?” Noah asked, his voice growing loud with excitement. “Or maybe a moose?”

Rafael pushed up his sleeve to glance at his watch, “We might have missed them, _amigo_. Deer like to play really early.”

The boy’s face fell. “Oh.”

“If we don’t see them today, we have tomorrow. We’ll get up early and try again,” Olivia assured.

“I’ve never seen a dear in real life,” Noah said.

“I saw one once,” Olivia told him. “Aunt Amanda and I were driving back from the Adirondacks and we saw a doe and her baby. They ran right out in front of the car.”

“In front of you?” Rafael asked, before turning to Noah. “That’s jaywalking. Good job those deer weren’t in New York.” 

Gabriella rolled her eyes at her father’s attempt at humour.

“A deer, in New York?” Noah questioned, shaking his head. “You’re silly, Rafa.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow at her son’s use of the shortened version of Rafael’s name – which he must have overheard her use – and opened her mouth to remind Noah of his manners, but Rafael waved her off with a shake of his head.

They came to a small clearing and Gabriella and Noah ran ahead, chasing each other through the snow. Olivia was about to chase after them, warn them not to go too far when Rafael reached for her gloved hand and tugged her back.

“They’re fine,” he told her, nodding to the agents who were tailing them.

“I’m sorry about Noah, I will speak to him about not calling you Rafa.”

His brow furrowed. “You call me Rafa.”

“Yes, but he’s a child and…”

“Did we not have this conversation?” He encircled her in his arms. “I told you… I want Noah to feel comfortable around me so he can call me whatever he likes.”

“Let’s maybe not suggest that to him. Goodness knows what sort of a nickname he’d come up with.”

“Okay, but ‘Rafa’ stays if that’s what Noah wants. Besides, do you know how rare it is for me to hear my actual name these days? My mother… and you. That’s it. Not even Rita - my best friend since law school - will call my Rafael. Humour me, please?”

She nodded and Rafael pulled her tighter towards him.

“So,” he said, “you and Gabby? Are things really okay?”

“We’re fine. I apologised that we’d made her uncomfortable and assured her we’d be more respectful of shared spaces when she’s around.”

“I told her we would.”

Olivia nodded. “Doesn’t hurt for her to hear it from me too.”

“I suppose not.”

“Anyway, it’s all good. We agreed to move past it and enjoy the weekend.”

He rubbed his nose against hers, Eskimo-style. “Good.”

She pulled back. “Did we not just promise that we wouldn’t subject our children to public displays of affection?”

He followed her. “They’re too busy to notice,” he whispered as his lips found hers for a brief kiss.

“Hey Dad!”

Rafael barely heard the shout from behind him. He turned his head and was met with a face full of snow and echoes of laughter. Shaking off the snow, he saw a flurry of long dark hair disappear behind a tree.

Another snowball flew through the air, hitting Olivia on the shoulder and a head of brown curls ducked behind the same tree.

“I think we’re under attack,” Olivia told him, dusting the snow from her jacket.

“That’s okay. I have a plan for a response scenario." There were a couple of trees with thick trunks on their side of the clearing and Rafael pulled Olivia behind one of them. They knelt and gathered up some snow, packing it into tight balls about the size of baseballs. Then they watched, waiting for either Gabriella or Noah to reveal their position.

“There!” whispered Olivia, as she saw Gabriella peek out to look for them. Olivia and Rafael crept through the trees to approach the kids’ hiding spot from behind. Luckily, there was a layer of fresh snow which muffled their steps.

“Gotcha!” Rafael called as they threw the snowballs at their backs.

“Aaaaah!” The kids chorused and ran out into the clearing, the adults chasing behind, each with another freshly packed snowball.

“Quick!” Gabriella grabbed Noah’s hand and yanked him behind a bench. “Get some more snow!” she instructed, already gathering hers. 

Once she and Noah both had their next round of ammunition, Gabriella began a countdown. “Three, two, one, FIRE!”

They popped out from behind the bench and threw the snowballs as hard as they could, Rafael skilfully dodged Gabriella’s attempt, but Noah’s hit its target, crashing into Olivia’s chest.

“Yes!” Gabriella shouted, and she looked at her partner in crime. He raised his snow-covered glove and the two high fived. “Nice one, Noah!”

Snowballs continued to fly back and forth between the four of them and it wasn’t long before the adults were calling for a time out.

Rafael stood, bent forward with his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. Despite the layers of winter clothing, everyone’s cheeks and nose were red with cold. “Who’s up for some hot chocolate?” he suggested, wanting to get inside and warmed up.

“But what about the snowman?” Noah pouted. It was something he’d been wanting to do since the first flakes of snow had fallen two weeks earlier. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been enough in the city to do more than just make footprint patterns.

“We can build them afterwards,” Olivia promised.

He looked to Rafael. “Are there marshmallows?”

“Oh, I think we can rustle some up.”

As they made their way back to the cabin, the snow began to fall once more and by the time they walked up the steps to the front door the four of them were covered in a slight dusting. Gabriella and Noah quickly stripped off their outer layers when they entered, sending flurries of white flakes to the floor, before running to the living area and claiming the sofa with the thickest blanket. They huddled up under it as Olivia and Rafael shed their coats and boots. She joined the kids in front of the fire, while Rafael headed to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate.

Rummaging through the hot chocolate box, Rafael found the flavour his daughter had requested on their way back to the cabin. They always kept a selection of flavoured hot chocolates in the kitchen - both at Camp David and in the White House – because Gabriella loved trying new kinds of hot chocolate, just as he had when he was younger. Today, she had asked for white chocolate, while Noah had opted for ‘normal’ flavour. Picking out a mint sachet for himself and a hazelnut one for Olivia, he set about making their drinks, topping them off with marshmallows and a dash of whipped cream on his and Olivia’s.

He placed them on a tray, along with some of the Christmas cookies that the catering staff had stocked the kitchen with and carried them through to the living room. He put the tray down on the coffee table and began to hand out the mugs.

“Here you go, amigo.” He handed Noah a cup. “Blow on it, it’s hot.”

Noah immediately lifted the cup to his mouth eliciting a chorus of, “Blow on it,” from Olivia, Rafael and Gabriella.

Rafael shook his head as he handed Gabriella her drink. “You too, _estrellita,_ ” he warned.

Noah glanced at Gabriella’s drink. “She has more marshmallows than me.”

“No she doesn’t,” Rafael assured him, “you both have five.” He handed Olivia a mug. “You have five too."

“Thank you.” Olivia blew on her hot chocolate before taking a sip. When she lowered her mug, Noah laughed at her. “What?”

Gabriella, who was struggling to contain a laugh of her own, discretely pointed at her mouth.

“Oh, do I have something on my lip?” She took another sip, purposefully making it worse and Gabriella lost it, joining Noah in his laughter.

Smiling, Olivia plucked a napkin off the tray and wiped her mouth, as Noah crawled across the sofa and onto her lap, his drink wobbling in his hand. “Blow on mine,” he asked.

“What do we think the chances are that you won’t spill this on me?”

Noah shrugged, tipping the cup, spilling some of the hot liquid onto Olivia’s jumper.

“Ahhh!”

Rafael’s hand shot out to steady Noah’s mug, as he said, “Sorry, Momma.”

Olivia dabbed at the wet spot on her arm. “It’s okay, sweet boy.”

“It’s my fault,” Rafael said. “I shouldn’t have filled it so full. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Luckily, this jumper is quite thick, so it’s not soaked through. I should probably throw it in the wash though or It may stain.”

She threw back the blanket and, encouraging Noah to move off her lap, stood. “I’ll be right back,” she said, heading to her room to change.

Rafael glanced out of the window. The snow had started to fall more heavily now and the idea of going back outside in it didn’t really appeal. He looked his watch and turned Gabriella and Noah. “Hey, it’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you two pick a film we can snuggle up and watch and then we can go back out in the snow after we’ve eaten.”

“Muppets!” Gabriella declared, pushing herself off the sofa and raiding the cabinet under the television. “Have you seen it, Noah?” she asked, holding up a DVD of ‘The Muppet’s Christmas Carol’.

He shook his head.

“Oh, it’s brilliant. You’ll love it.”

Rafael smiled. “It’s Gabby’s favourite, if you can’t tell.”

“It’s a classic!”

“What’s a classic?” asked Olivia as she returned, dressed in a new top. She carried the stained one in her arms.

“The Muppets Christmas Carol. I thought we could watch a movie before lunch, so we’re sufficiently rested for our snowman building competition.” He held his hand out for her jumper. “Here, let me throw that in the wash.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got it, just point me towards the washer.”

“I know I’m a man but I’m perfectly capable of--”

“It’s not that. You’re… you’re the President of the United States - you can’t be doing my laundry.”

“I thought we agreed that here, I was just Rafael.“

“We did, but—”

“Then let me put it in the wash.”

“Fine.” She handed him the balled-up garment.

“Thank you. You, sit and finish your hot chocolate.” He turned and left, heading for the laundry room so Olivia moved to join the kids on the sofa. She was just sitting down when Gabriella turned to her.

“You’re brave. Last time he did the laundry, he turned all of the sheets and towels pink!”

Olivia straightened up and followed in the direction Rafael had gone. “Rafa!”

* * *

_Camp David,_  
Catoctin Mountain Park, MD  
Saturday, December 21, 2019 – 10.10pm

The rest of the day had been a success. Noah had enjoyed the film and Olivia’s sweater had emerged from the laundry unaltered. They’d braved the weather again after a simple lunch of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and now two large snowmen stood proudly on either side of the steps leading up to the front door, each with delicate carrot noses and dark eyes made from coal. Noah’s snowman wore his creator’s hat, scarf, and gloves – the young boy eager to rid himself of the cumbersome winter clothing, much to his mother’s chagrin. All four of them chipped in to make dinner and then they’d played a mammoth game of Monopoly, with Noah won after creating a real-estate consortium which included all four railways as well as Park Place and Boardwalk.

Once both kids were in bed, Olivia settled on the sofa, in front of the fire with a book as Rafael poured them both a drink. He took a seat next to her, resting his feet on the coffee table, and handed her a glass of Cabernet. 

She took a sip of the dark, red liquid, “Mmm,” before returning to the book. Her eyes skimmed the page for a moment. “Good God.”

“What?” Rafael threw his arm over the back of the sofa and picked up the TV remote, clicking the set on.

Olivia pulled her legs up on the sofa and curled into his side. “I'm looking at your college transcripts. This isn't human. Nobody gets this many “A's. You were like a Stepford student.”

“I was a scholarship student. I worked extra hard because I felt I had to justify my place there,” he admitted, circling through the TV channels. “I can’t believe you’re still reading that ridiculous biography.”

“Actually, I finished _Rafael Barba: Road to the White House_. Now I'm onto _Barba: The Early Years.”_

“Seven-trillion-dollar communications system at my disposal, and there is absolutely nothing to watch.”

“Oh, Rafa. C-minus in Women's Studies?”

His cheeks coloured. “Yeah, well that course wasn't about what I thought it was gonna be about.”

Olivia giggled as Rafael settled on the news channel.

_“In a related item,”_ the anchor man was saying, _“President Barba was in Maryland this week for his routine physical exam. Doctors at Bethesda Naval Hospital pronounced the President in excellent health.”_

Rafael shook his head, changing the channel once more, only to find another news program.

“ _While the President spent the day at Camp David, G.O.P. presidential hopeful Peter Stone continued his attacks on President Barba’s character. During the Saturday morning news program Capitol Review with Kenneth Michaels, Senator Stone suggested that JHF lobbyist, Olivia Benson, whose close, personal relationship with the President has been causing the White House headaches over the past few weeks, may have traded sexual favours f_ or key votes _in the Pennsylvania State Legislature while lobbying for Planned Parenthood.”_

Rafael and Olivia eyes widened at the news anchors words. They sat up as the program cut to footage from that morning, knowing they were about to take a hit but were powerless to stop it.

Even the host seemed shocked by what he was being said. _“Wait a minute, Senator–”_

_“I'm not saying–”_

_“--'cause that's a heck of an accusation to make, and–”_

_“I'm not making an acc–”_ Stone stopped himself and, collecting his thoughts, continued. _“Let me be very clear about this. I am not making an accusation. I am saying when we hear one thing, we dismiss it. We hear two, we dismiss it. But when several, several well-respected members and former members of the Pennsylvania State Legislature–”_

_“Can you give us names?”_ pressed Kenneth Michaels.

_“--each of their own accord, comes to me and expresses concern over the woman standing next to…”_

Olivia ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh my God. He… he's making this up as he goes along.”

“I’m so sorry, Liv.” He reached out and placed a hand on her leg.

_“I don't even know what we call her?”_ Stone continued on the TV. _“Is she the First Mistress?”_

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would make it stop. “Oh, man. Don heard that.”

Rafael stabbed the button on the remote and the television clicked off, turning to her “Don? Who’s Don?” He’d never heard her mention any men in her life, other than Nick Amaro and William Dodds, so to see her so concerned about this man’s reaction to the accusation piqued his interested. 

Despite the context of the conversation, Olivia couldn’t help but smile. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy there, Rafa?”

“No,” he lied.

She gave him a look that stated she didn’t believe him for a second. “Don is Donald Cragen. He and his wife, Eileen lived next door to us when I was growing up. I didn’t have the easiest childhood. My mom was…” she shook her head. If she went down that road, the conversation would veer completely off topic. “Anyway, they were there for me. A lot. He’s like a surrogate father figure. And he just heard Peter Stone call me a whore on national television.”

“Yeah,” sighed Rafael. “He’ll have to turn a deaf ear.”

“Don Cragen doesn't have a deaf ear. He hears fine out of both.” She shifted on the sofa, turning to face Rafael. “So do I. So does Amanda, so do the rest of my friends. You're the only one who seems to–”

“Liv, I can't challenge the school bully to a fight just because he picks on my girlfriend.”

“I'm not asking you to. I can take care of myself. This isn't about me. How can you keep quiet? How do you have patience for people who claim they love America but clearly can't stand Americans?”

“I have one election left, Liv. I don't have the luxury of losing my patience.”

She sighed. “I want to say something, but I'm gonna fumble it a little bit, so I'd just like you to wait till I'm done before you say anything.” She took a breath and locked eyes with him. “I know we’ve not been together very long and this might be a bit fast, but I'm in love with you, Rafa. I'm certain of it. And I want to be with you more than anything. But maybe things would be better for you if Noah and I disappeared for a while.”

“Things will be better when I pass the crime bill,” he assured her. “Besides, if you disappeared, I'd find you, because I love you too.”

“Yeah?” She’d been scared to say it to him; wary of moving too fast, so she was relieved and overjoyed to hear him return her feelings.

He scooted closer to her and leaned in. “Yeah,” he whispered, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the delay with this! Remote teaching means I have far less time than I used to. But I've been off this week so here is a new chapter. I'm assuming you guys won't mind reading about Christmas in February... The first scene is taken from the film but the rest is my own (any West Wing fans in my readership may spot a few familiar anecdotes, though). 
> 
> Thanks again to [motherbearof3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3) for all of her help with this!

_The White House Residence,  
Washington D.C  
Monday, December 23, 2019 – 6.30pm_

The main hallway of the residence was crowded with people, mostly close friends of Rafael and Gabriella as well as the senior staff and their families. The informal party was in full swing. An eight-foot Christmas tree stood at one end - in the east sitting hall – and festive garlands decorated the archways along the centre hall and into the west sitting hall.

“The country has mood swings,” Eddie was explaining as he ladled some eggnog into his glass. There were several tables were dotted about containing punch bowls and a variety of hors d'oeuvres for the guests.

“Mood swings?” Carisi raised an eyebrow. “Nineteen post-graduate degrees in mathematics and you explain going from a 63 to a 46 percent approval rating in 5 weeks on mood swings?”

“Well, I could explain it better, but I'd need charts and graphs and an easel.”

“Guys, we haven't slept in three years,” said Pippa. “Can't we forget work for one night and take this moment to enjoy each other as friends? It's Christmas.”

“It's Christmas?” Carisi deadpanned.

Eddie bit back a smile. “Yeah, you didn't get the memo?”

Gabriella, who had one ear on the conversation going on behind her as she raided the buffet table, shook her head at her father’s staff.

“Hey Gabby?” asked Noah as he grabbed a handful of Goldfish crackers from the table. Olivia was working late, but he’d been brought to the party by Amanda, who had been extended an invitation as her best friend.

“Yeah?”

“You know how your dad is President? Does he automatically get to be on money?”

Gabriella considered his question for a moment. “You know, I honestly don't know.”

“Maybe only if he's a really good President,” suggested Jesse, who was so overwhelmed by all the new faces that she hadn’t left Noah’s side since they arrived.

“Yeah, maybe. Hey, look Noah,” she pointed across the room, “your mom’s here.”

“Momma!” Noah ran across the room to greet her, Jesse hot on his heels.

Olivia bent to embrace the two children, placing kisses on the tops of their heads. “Hi sweet boy. Hi Jesse. Are you having fun?”

They nodded. “There’s a huge tower of cakes over there,” Jesse exclaimed. “And Noah said we can eat as much ice cream as we want!”

“Oh, did he? I’m not sure your mom would agree, sweetie.”

Jesse’s eye darted around the room searching for her mom. Spotting her talking to Carisi, she grabbed Noah’s hand. “Come on, let’s go ask her.”

Olivia smiled as she watched the two of them scamper off, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. It had been a hell of a day and she needed a large glass of wine. She looked around for Rafael but couldn’t see him.

“Liv, Merry Christmas.”

“Hi, Fin,” she greeted, kissing him on the cheek.

Rita stepped over to join them. “Hello Olivia.” 

“Merry Christmas, Rita.”

“And a Merry Christmas to you. Where’ve you been?”

“I got stuck on Dupont Circle.” They all laughed at that. “I can never remember which lane I'm supposed to take.” Olivia ran a hand through her hair. “Then I got cut off by this idiot cab driver who starts screaming at me like it's my fault.”

“Lighten up, Liv. It's Christmas.”

“Hi, Liv,” Rafael greeted as he approached. “Did you get stuck on DuPont Circle again?” has asked, drawing laughter from Fin and Rita once more. His eyes shone mischievously as he kissed her on the cheek.

“It's not funny,” she protested lightly as Rafael put his arm around her shoulder. “I hate that place. Can't you declare it a Federal Disaster Area or something?”

He laughed. “I'll look into it.”

“What were you doing up on the Hill, anyway?” Rita asked.

“Oh, I had a terrible meeting today. I totally lost my cool with Abraham, Buchanan and Braun.”

“You went up to see the Motown Three?” Rafael asked, surprised she hadn’t mentioned it.

“I pitched them the bill.”

Rita raised an eyebrow. “On its merits?”

It wasn’t that Rita disagreed with the bill, she didn’t, but she knew the Motown Three would not be big fans. Too much federal funding for something they believed should be allocated at local and state levels. They were a formidable force too, especially when taken on as a threesome.

“The woman knows no fear,” defended Rafael. “She'd lobby the Carolinas to the American Lung Association.”

“It was a disaster,” Olivia admitted.

“Well, you're in good company,” Rita empathised. “I sat with them a week ago. They told me there was nothing on the President's domestic agenda they were more committed to defeating than the crime bill.”

“Well, congratulations. You're out of the cellar, because Abraham told me the only thing on the President's domestic agenda, they were more committed to defeating than the crime bill was the rape kit reform package.”

Rita and Rafael shared a look, trying to assess the situation without giving anything away.

“You’re kidding, right?” Rita asked.

“No, I'm not kidding. It's funny that he used the same words.”

“Yeah... Pep Boys don’t know too many words.”

Olivia shook her head. “I'm gonna get a drink and shake this off. When I come back, I'll have some Christmas spirit.”

“Okay.”

Olivia eyed Rafael, noting his change in mood. “Are you okay?”

He plastered on a smile. “I’m fine, yeah, I’m fine. 

“Come on,” said Fin, “I’ll lead the way.”

“Thank you.”

Rita watched them go before turning to Rafael and whispering. “Did what I think just happened, just happen? Did the JHF’s chief lobbyist just tell the President and the White House Chief of Staff that there are three votes on the crime bill that can be bought by sticking the rape kit reform package in a drawer?”

“No, the JHF’s chief lobbyist didn't tell us anything. Olivia Benson told her boyfriend and her boyfriend's best friend that she had a lousy day.”

“It doesn't change the facts, Mr. President. If Olivia gets her twenty-four votes and we're three votes short, there's some manoeuvring to be done.”

“I made a promise, Rita.”

“You made a deal, Mr. President,” she corrected.

“I made it with Olivia.”

“You made it with the JHF.”

“Yeah, well, this is all academic anyway. We're not going to need those votes.”

“Sir, if your approval rating continues to drop, things are gonna get tight.”

He avoided Rita’s gaze, and by the time Olivia and Fin returned with their drinks, Rafael had shaken off the feeling of unease that Rita’s words had instilled in him and was able to enjoy the evening. His hand slipped to Olivia’s waist as she introduced him to Amanda and Jesse. They spoke for a while, Rafael charming Jesse with the practised ease of the father of a daughter. Carisi joined them after a few minutes and it wasn’t lost on Olivia how well he and Amanda seemed to get on.

When Noah flaked out on one of the sofas around 9.30, Rafael carried him to the guest room across the hall from Gabriella’s. Olivia followed, and once Noah was settled on the bed, she removed his shoes, socks, and jeans before Rafael covered him with a blanket.

“Will he be okay in here?”

Rafael nodded, as he dimmed the lights in the room. “We’re only down the hall and there’s an agent outside if he wakes up.” 

He held out his hand and Olivia took it, allowing herself to be led from the room. They left bedroom door ajar to illuminate the room enough that Noah wouldn’t be frightened if he woke up.

Gabriella took herself to bed about half an hour later and many of the guests departed soon after, leaving only the president’s senior staff. They sat around talking and swapping stories from the campaign. Olivia laughed particularly hard at the story of the President and Rita arguing about whether or not he should wear a jacket on one of his winter campaign stops..

“It’s 10 degrees with a wind chill factor that would crack your spine and my Cuban blood doesn’t cope well in those temperatures so there’s no way I’m leaving the van without my jacket. But she won’t give it to me – saying it’d make me look like I’ve just sledded in from the tundra and telling me my fellow citizens won’t vote for me if I’m wearing a parka.”

“It was New Hampshire,” Rita argued. “Voters up there are used to the cold and take a dim view of those who can’t cope with it.”

“Anyway, Rita won’t give me the jacket and we’re pulling it back and forth and like two sailors trying to raise the mast on a ship and then just as we both give it a really strong tug, this one,” he pointed at Carisi, who had stood to get himself another drink, “opens the door and—”

“It wasn’t me,” Carisi protested.

“Of course it was you.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“You were there. Who’s telling this story, you or me?”

Carisi took a sip of punch before replying. “You, sir.”

“Exactly, so sit down and shut up,” Rafael ordered with a grin. He let the laughter die down a little before continuing. “Where was I? Oh yeah, Sonny opens the door from outside as Rita loses her grip and I go flying out of the door and land on my ass in front of fifty TV cameras.”

“Maybe five,” interjected Pippa.

“It made the front page of the _Union Leader_ the next day – a huge picture of me lying prone in the street.”

“I still protest that I wasn’t there,” Carisi said, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the small dish on the coffee table. “Although I was there when Pippa through a basketball through the window of campaign headquarters.”

“That was not my fault,” Pippa exclaimed, as the others dissolved into laughter once more.

It was several more stories – and drinks – before the party ended and, after saying goodbye to Rita and Fin, Olivia collected her bag as Rafael walked the out. She moved silently down the hallway, nodding to the secret service agents as she passed. She entered the room where Noah was sleeping, pausing at the side of his bed as she tried to decide the best course of action for getting him home.

She heard Rafael enter and a few moments later he stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

“He looks so peaceful,” he whispered, gazing down at the boy who was snoring softly. “Seems a shame to wake him.”

Olivia turned her head to look at him. “We can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Because.”

“That’s not a reason, Liv. Come on, it’s late. You leave now and I’ll be awake all night worrying that you’ve wrapped your car around a tree.”

“I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Or you could just stay here.”

“We don’t have a change of clothes. We’d have to leave early to go home so I could get ready for work.”

“So, we’ll set an alarm.” His lips grazed the skin just below her ear and he could feel her resolve weakening. “Stay.”

His hand slipped down to curl around her smaller one, and he pulled her with him when he stepped back and turned toward the door. She moved with him, and as their fingers twined together, a small smile curved her lips. Olivia moved into his side as they made the short walk down the hall.

* * *

_Olivia’s Apartment,  
Washington D.C  
Wednesday, December 25, 2019 – 6.00am_

Olivia was woken by a sudden movement of the mattress behind her. “Momma! Momma! Wake up! It’s Christmas.”

“Good morning sweet boy,” Olivia rasped, looking at the clock. 6.05am. She rolled onto her back with groan; she didn’t function well on less than six hours sleep anymore. And she’s had substantially less than that. Once they’d returned from Amanda’s last night and she’d settled Noah in bed, Olivia had finished off some last-minute wrapping and arranged the presents under the tree, before settling on the sofa with a book to wait for Rafael to call. He and Gabriella had planned to attend midnight mass at National Cathedral, and he’d said he’d call when they got home. It was nearing 2 am when her cell had sprung to life on the coffee table and they’d spoken for at least half an hour.

Noah crawled over her, sitting astride her legs. “Come on, Momma,” he pestered. “I want to see if Santa came.”

Olivia sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Standing, she grabbed her robe from the chair next to the bed. “Go on then,” she told him, pulling it on. Noah ran out of the room, thundering down the hall. “Don’t open anything until I get there!” she called after him.

She heard his gasp as he rounded the sofa. “A new bike!”

An hour and half later, the living room floor was covered in wrapping paper and there was an ever-growing pile of toys, clothes and chocolate next to Noah on the sofa. He had been well and truly spoiled and she suspected there would be more presents to come when they saw Rafael and Gabriella.

Eyeing the two gift bags by the tree that were waiting to go to the White House, Noah asked, “Why did Santa leave presents for Gabby and Rafa here?”

“Well,” she began, picking up some of the discarded wrapping paper and putting it into a garbage bag, “sometimes, he—”

She was cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone and Noah, sensing a chance to get out of tidying up, dived across the pile of presents and picked up the handset from the end table. “Hello?”

“Rafa!” Noah beamed as he realised who was on the other end of the phone and began to chat animatedly to him, listing all the things he’d got for Christmas. Once he’d exhausted his list and listened to Rafael, he held out the phone to Olivia.

“Rafa says we can go over later,” he told her excitedly. “He said Santa left me presents there too.”

Olivia took the phone from her son and he turned his attention back to his presents, shaking his head and muttering, “I think Santa needs better GPS.”

“Hi,” Olivia greeted. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Noah sounds very excited.”

“He is,” Olivia replied, glancing at her son who had unwrapped and taken a large bite out of a chocolate Santa. “And now he’s decided he’s having chocolate for breakfast.”

Noah looked up at her and grinned toothily.

Rafael laughed. “Gabriella’s chocolate coins didn’t last very long either,” he commiserated. “What time was he awake this morning?”

Olivia gave him a brief rundown of their morning, and he did the same. She’d never admit it but she was slightly relieved to hear how normal his and Gabriella’s morning was. Well, if you discounted the national security briefing and the several members of staff at their beck and call.

“Feel free to come over whenever,” Rafael told her, “we’ll be here.” They’d agreed last night the plan was still for them to spend the afternoon together but hadn’t firmed up timings.

“I think we may need a quick trip to the park first to run off some energy and sugar.”

Noah’s ears perked up at the mention of the park. “Can I take my new bike?”

Olivia glanced out of the window. It was dry and the park wasn’t too far. “We’ll see,” she told him returning her attention to Rafael. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. The bike was a hit then?”

“Oh yes. I think he’d be riding it round the apartment if he could.” Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, she shot Noah a glare. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I think maybe I’d better let you go,” Rafael said, chuckling. “Before Christmas in the Benson household turns ugly. I’ll see you later.”

“Can’t wait.”

* * *

_The White House Residence,  
Washington D.C  
Wednesday, December 25, 2019 – 8.00am_

Rafael hung up the phone, still laughing at Noah’s antics. He couldn’t blame the boy; he remembered how excited he’d been when he’d got a new bike from his grandparents for his birthday. He’d wanted to ride the thing all the time; to school, to the bodega; even to church – much to his mother’s chagrin. Gabriella had been much the same. The year she’d got her first bike, he and Lauren had spent hours in a freezing cold Central Park teaching her how to ride it.

Leaning back in his chair, he imagined Noah speeding down the path, the wind blowing his curls, Olivia chasing after him, calling out to him to slow down…

He wished he could be there to see it.

On impulse, he glanced at the clock and, after a few moments, had made a decision. He left his room and made his way down the hall. He rapped lightly on Gabriella’s door. “Gabby?” 

She opened the door a crack and peered out. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I was just setting up my new phone. Why?”

He looked up and down the hallway and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Fancy sneaking out?”

Her eyes widened, “Are you serious?”

He nodded, filling her in on his plan. “Grab a shower, get dressed and meet me in the living room in…” he looked at his watch… “Thirty minutes.”

“Make it forty and you’re on.”

Rafael laughed as he headed back down the corridor. Spotting the head agent on today’s detail he called him over. “Hey, Coop, I need a favour...”

Forty-five minutes later, Rafael and Gabriella were travelling down Pennsylvania Avenue in an unmarked black suburban with two agents. A second unmarked car containing another three agents followed behind. The streets of the capital were fairly empty given the early hour of the holiday and the few people that were out and about paid them no mind as they went about their business.

“They have no idea who’s driving past them!” Gabriella said in amazement as she looked out of the window. “You know, Aunt Rita’s going to blow a gasket when she finds out we did this, right?”

“But she won’t find out, will she?” he said, with a pointed look. “That’s the whole point of sneaking, _estrellita_.”

“She won’t hear it from me, Gabriella promised, “But she will find out; she’s got more sources than CNN and MSNBC put together.”

“Mr President?” Coop turned and looked into the back.

“Yeah?”

“We’re approaching the park.”

Rafael turned towards the window, scanning the area for Olivia and Noah.

“There they are!” Gabriella leaned over, pointing. They weren’t hard to spot; Noah’s bright blue coat and florescent orange cycle helmet giving them away.

Agent Cooper stopped the SUV and the agents in the car behind jumped out. “We’re just going to do a quick sweep, sir.”

Rafael held in his eyeroll. “I don’t see the need, but okay.”

A few minutes later, they were given the all-clear and Rafael and Gabriella stepped out onto the sidewalk and entered the park. The sun was out and the light dusting of snow that had fallen in the city the day before had mostly melted, but the air was cold and crisp, and Rafael suspected there would be more snow before the day was out.

Gabriella ran ahead, catching up with Olivia. “Hey Liv.”

Olivia looked up. Her eyes were wide and her surprise evident as she stared at the girl. “Gabby!” 

“Surprise! Merry Christmas.”

She pulled the girl in a hug. “Merry Christmas. Wha—”

She trailed off, shaking her head as she spotted Rafael – dressed casually in blue jeans and a dark puffer jacket and flanked by secret service agents – striding towards her.

Rafael took a moment just to admire her; the way the breeze caught her hair and lifted it away from her face, and the way her skin was flushed from the cold temperature.

He walked over and leaned down. His lips brushed the corner of her mouth. “Merry Christmas.” He waved at Noah who, on noticing his mom had stopped, had turned his bike around. Seeing Rafael, he pedalled back at full speed.

“Rafa!”

When he came to a halt next to them, Rafael bent down and gave him a high five. “Nice wheels, _amigo_.”

“Yes, Santa was very generous this year,” Olivia added.

“Hey Gabby?” Noah called.

“Yeah?”

“Race ya!”

He pedalled off, Gabriella chasing after him and her security detail chasing after her.

Olivia tilted her head at Rafael. “How are you here?”

He shrugged. “We snuck out.”

“You snuck out?”

“Yeah. I do it every now and then. Mostly to shop. A couple of agents, an unmarked black suburban. They tell the manager, they clear the store, I'm in, I'm out. It's like nothing ever happened.”

“I didn’t know Presidents could do that.”

“Did you know that there's an underground tunnel out of the White House. I haven't found it yet,” he admitted before turning back to Olivia, “even though I search almost every day.”

Olivia threw her head back and laughed. She lay a hand on his arm. “Okay, so that explains _how_ you’re here but _why_?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“And you couldn’t wait a couple of hours?”

He flashed her a half-smile and shook his head lightly. “No.”

She smiled at him, shaking her head.

His gaze fell to the floor and he rocked on his heels. “But I can go if you’d rather—”

Her hand shot out to capture his arm. “Don’t you dare!”

They shared a smile and his arm fell around her waist. They walked quietly along the path, towards where Noah and Gabby had stopped; the elder bent forward with her hands on her knees, panting.

When Gabriella had got her breath back, they continued along the path, Noah dodging the patches of ice as they did a small circuit of the park. They walked for about twenty minutes, talking about their respective Christmas Eves, the gifts they’d received and the plan for the rest of the day, until Cooper approached.

“Mr President, it’s time.”

Rafael glanced around; there were certainly more people around now; joggers, dog walkers, children testing out new bikes, skateboards and roller skates. Gabriella’s detail were already escorting her to the car. He got the message; they could no longer guarantee his safety. He nodded at the agent and turned to Olivia with a sigh. “Well, we’ve got to go,” he said quietly, brushing his lips against hers. “We’ll see you in a bit?”

“Yeah.” She was a reluctant as he was to have to step back to reality, but she took solace in the fact that she’d see him later. “We’ll go home and change and then drive over.”

Rafael leaned in and kissed her again before pulling away completely and following the agents back to the car.

* * *

_The White House Residence,_  
Washington D.C  
Wednesday, December 25, 2019 – 4.30pm

Hours later, Olivia stood on the Truman balcony overlooking the snow-dusted grounds of the White House and enjoying the quiet coolness of the evening. She absentmindedly played with the pendant that adorned her neck as she took in the view. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the Washington Monument and Capitol building were shining against the darkening sky. Arms circled her from behind, where she stood against the balcony rail, and a smile slowly curved her lips as she was drawn backward.

After a couple of raucous games of Hungry Hippos – a gift for Noah from Rafael – Gabriella had put on Just Dance and it had quickly turned into a ferocious competition between the two children. After a few rounds, Olivia needed a break from the noise, so had grabbed her cardigan and taken refuge out here. If she looked back inside, she was sure she’d see the two children jumping and dancing around the room.

The lips brushing the length of her jaw had her thoughts turning away from the kids, however. She sighed softly and leaned back into Rafael’s embrace. They’d had a lovely day; dinner, prepared by the White House chef, had been delicious and they’d all been well and truly spoilt.

As well as Hungry Hippos, Noah had received several Lego sets from Rafael, a new cycle helmet, some books and a set of suspenders that matched a pair Rafael already owned. There were books for Gabriella too – Olivia replacing the one she’d gifted to her early – as well as a personalised cover for her new phone, some Maybelline make-up, and a gift certificate for the local mall along with a promise of a shopping trip as soon as she could sort out a suitable time with Gabriella’s security detail.

Olivia had bought Rafael a bottle of Macallan scotch, a paisley tie and a very nice pen, complete with presentation case, and Noah had contributed a pair of socks with a Christmas penguin motif on them, bought with his own money. Gabriella had chosen a matching woolly hat and scarf set for Olivia and Rafael had bought her a new travel mug, and a bottle of her favourite perfume along with the heart-shaped pendant that now hung round her neck.

Letting her hand drop from the pendant, Olivia turned in Rafael’s arms and slipped her own around his middle, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Today has been wonderful, Rafa. Thank you.”

“Best Christmas in while,” he agreed. “Noisiest too.”

Olivia laughed. “I’d apologise, but I think Gabby is making more noise than Noah at this point.”

“She competitive, even against a six-year-old.”

“Well, he does have dance training.”

He reached up and caught a lock of hair as it blew across her face and tucked it behind her ear. She had re-styled her hair when she and Noah nipped home after their clandestine meeting in the park that morning. It now fell in soft waves around her shoulders. The oversized hoodie and leggings she’d worn had been replaced by jeans and a fitted top of vibrant red that hugged her curves in a _very_ flattering way.

He dropped his hand to her neck and fingered the collar, the tops of his fingers brushing her skin. “Have I mentioned that you look beautiful today?”

“Once, when we arrived, but a girl could handle hearing it again.”

“Well, you do. I really like this colour on you.”

“It’s brighter than what I usually wear.” She hadn’t been sure about it, but Amanda had talked her into it.

“Well, I like it. It’s festive.”

She found his lips again, and let the kiss linger gently, while still being mindful of where they were and who could see them. She smiled against his mouth and let her eyes open. Her thumb stroked the strong line of his jaw. "I love you."

It was the first time she’d said it since giving voice to her feelings for him three nights ago, and this time it wasn’t motivated by fear of what might happen or a desire to fix the mess that was the media intrusion into their lives. This time it wasn’t driven by anything except the pure joy and happiness that came from spending the day with him, of watching him with Gabriella and Noah. It fell from her lips easier than the last time, even though it felt more meaningful.

His hands moved into the thick curtain of her hair and he looked at her. There was a gentle curving to her lips, and a light flush that was colouring her cheeks. Rafael lowered his head and let his lips gently brush hers. "I love you too."

A crash from inside jerked them apart and they were about to rush inside when Gabriella’s voice carried through the open door. “It’s okay, nothing’s broken!”

“We should probably get back in there before they break some priceless 18th century ornament,” Olivia suggested.

Rafael shook his head and took Olivia’s hand, pulling her towards him and wrapping her in his embrace once more. “Five more minutes. Let them burn off the rest of their sugar high and then we can all crash out in front of a movie.” 

Her arms went around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at its nape. “You’re not worried about the possible destruction of irreplaceable historical artefacts?”

He shrugged. “In just over a year that could be someone else’s problem.”

She shook her head. “It won’t be.”

“You sound pretty sure about that.”

She was. She knew his approval rating had taken a hit, but she honestly believed that when faced with a choice between Rafael and Peter Stone, the electorate would make the right choice. “Americans aren’t stupid,” she told him, “they know a good thing when it’s standing in front of them.”

“So do I,” he replied, eyes sparkling as he swallowed her laugh with a kiss.


End file.
